A Christmas Connection
by Saintsavory
Summary: Due to a mix up at a lodge in New Hampshire over the holidays, Piper and Alex are forced to share a cottage.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: For the third year in a row, here's my attempt at a Christmas story ala Vauseman for your enjoyment. This is meant to be fun and cozy, so if you're looking for a thick plot and adventure, you're not going to find it here. It's not a long story by any means, so look for about four chapters. Also, this is not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

Vauseman AU with an OOC tag for the folks who feel the need to point out that most of my stories are OOC. Enjoy!

* * *

If it wasn't for my lack of extended family or lack of planning, I wouldn't be here right now. My mom is in Florida, and I haven't spoken to my aunt or cousins for the better part of a decade. I was so busy with work that I flat out forgot to make plans for Christmas, so plans were made on my behalf. I could've bowed out; after all, I've only been dating Phoebe for a month, but she needed a date to bring to her friend's wedding, and I warmed up to the thought of spending three nights at a resort in New Hampshire.

So, here we are at the Plymouth Lodge, waiting for our room key. Ignoring the hustle and bustle around me, I observe my surroundings. It's the kind of resort I've only seen in movies or magazines—cathedral ceilings with long wooden beams stretching across the vast space; huge river rock fireplace bursting to live with yellow flames; vintage leather sofas and chairs dotting the hardwood floors; a 15-foot tall Douglas Fir with all the trimmings; Evergreen wreaths complete with white lights hanging on the walls; a man playing Christmas songs on the grand piano in the lobby; and of course, Santa Claus greeting guests with little candy canes as they enter the lodge. It's like I've just stepped into the North Pole.

Phoebe grabs my arm, disturbing my musings. "They're putting us in one of the cottages!"

"Is that a good thing?"

She frowns. "You didn't look at the website like I told you to."

I don't appreciate being _told_ to do anything unless it's by my boss, but I don't say as much. "Sorry."

She tugs her roller bag towards the exit. "Well, if you would've looked, you'd know that the lodge has three luxury cabins that are impossible to book during the holidays."

"Clearly not impossible," I say under my breath. "How'd we end up with one?"

"The lodge is oversold with two weddings this weekend, plus the guests who are staying here for the holidays," Phoebe offers. "The only room they have for us happen to be in one of the cottages."

"Looks like it's our lucky day."

"It sure is."

Truth be told, I wouldn't care if we were staying at a road side motel as long as I get some time away from work and out of the city. Don't get me wrong, I love Manhattan during the holidays, but when the swarms of tourists roll in, I tend to hibernate if not in my apartment then certainly in my neighborhood. I've mostly enjoyed Phoebe's company over the past month, though I don't think we have much in common. I can't imagine either of us feels like our relationship will last well into the future, but these four nights could determine that.

She opens the door to the cottage, and it looks like the scene of a Christmas photo shoot. Everything in the living room is ivory, gold and various shades of green except the red candles lining the flat surfaces. There's a Christmas tree trimmed simply with white and gold ornaments, fresh garland trailing up the banister and looping across the windows, and baskets of pine cones scattered about the room. There's a full kitchen with what appears to be high-end appliances, and of course, a fireplace that's already lit when we walk in. I'll admit this is far better than a road side motel.

Phoebe spins around. "Would you look at this place?"

I lift a hardback copy of _The Christmas Train_ off the shelf. "They've even stocked the place with holiday books."

"This is going to be the best Christmas ever!" She sidles up to me, kissing my cheek. "Just you and me in this beautiful cottage and a fancy wedding to attend."

I smile and lean down to kiss her when the front door swings open.

A startled woman stops short, eyes roaming from Phoebe to me. "Why are you in my cottage?"

"Your cottage?" Phoebe asks.

The woman nods, dangling a key in front of us. She's cute with her blonde hair peeking out of a wool cap and rosy cheeks like she just went for a run. "Yes, _my_ cottage."

Phoebe mimics the motion with our key.

"There must be some kind of mistake," I offer. "Didn't you say there are three cottages on the property?"

"Yes," Phoebe responds.

I shrug. "Maybe the same key works in all the locks." That would be a terrible security violation, but still, it could happen.

"Whatever the case, this cottage is mine." The woman removes her wool cap, and her hair sticks straight out.

My lips turn upwards as I watch her try to tamp down the static.

Phoebe reads the words on the plastic keychain. "This clearly states Cottage 2."

"So does mine." She puts her hands on her hips. "And I was here first, so I'd like you to leave."

Phoebe doesn't back down. " _We_ were here first."

The woman points towards the stairs. "My stuff is already in one of the bedrooms upstairs."

"Let's all take a deep breath," I chime in. "I'll call the front desk and get this straightened out."

Phoebe and the woman cross their arms and eye each other, and it's clear neither one is going to budge.

"Yes, hi, my name is Alex Vause, and I checked into Cottage 2 about ten minutes ago," I begin. "There's another woman here, claiming she's staying in this cottage."

"What's the other guest's name?"

I pull the receiver away from my mouth. "What's your name?"

"Piper." She turns her attention to me, face softening, and I notice her crystal blue eyes. "Piper Chapman."

Before I repeat her name to the clerk, I blink a few times, wanting to introduce myself, but Phoebe's glare reminds me I'm on a mission to find out whose cottage this really is.

"One moment, please."

"He's checking," I tell the two women.

"Uh, yes…we're in an oversold situation this week and had to double up guests in the cottages," he explains. "There are three bedrooms, each with a door that locks from the inside. You'll just share the common living area downstairs."

My eyebrows shoot up. While it's not a big deal to me, this is going to set Phoebe off.

"What is he saying?" she asks.

I relay the message.

"That will _not_ work." Phoebe grabs the phone. "Hello, this is Phoebe Dannenhold, and your explanation is totally unacceptable."

I glance at Piper and shrug hoping she takes it as an unspoken apology for the way Phoebe's behaving. Her lips tug up.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say there's nothing the hotel will be able to do about the situation since they're overbooked," I tell her.

She steps closer, perhaps to avoid Phoebe's rant on the phone. "While that's not my preference, you're probably right." She smells like a combination of pine and sugar cookies.

"I don't mind sharing the cottage if you're alright with it." I look around the room. "There's plenty of space, so I doubt we'll get in each other's way."

She squints at me like she's examining a foreign object and can't decide if it's worth cherishing or tossing aside. "Three nights is a long time to share a house with strangers."

I stick my hand out. "I'm Alex."

She shakes it, still eyeing me indecisively. "Piper."

"There." I shrug. "We're not strangers anymore."

It looks like she's trying to stifle a smile, but she's unsuccessful. "I guess not."

"I'm going to take our bags upstairs." I lift both suitcases. "Good luck down here."

I can feel Piper's eyes on me as I journey upstairs. Looks like this trip just got a little more interesting.

* * *

As I unpack my suitcase, I hear someone storming up the stairs, and I don't have to be clairvoyant to know who it is.

"This is unacceptable," Phoebe announces as she enters our room.

I toss my socks into a drawer. "Let me guess—nothing they could do about it?"

"No." She crosses her arms. "At almost $400 a night, this is ridiculous. They haven't heard the last from me."

"I'm sure they haven't." I shut the drawer and conceal an eye roll. "Maybe they'll give us a discount."

"She probably got the biggest room, too." Phoebe steps out, trying to open the door to the room next door, but it's locked.

"Don't do that." I put a hand on my hip, bothered by her petulance. "This is a spacious room and we have our own bathroom. Just leave it alone."

"Like hell I will," she huffs.

"Maybe you just need a little time to cool off and get back into that Christmas spirit you had when we first arrived." I kick my suitcase under the bed. "I'm going to go for a walk or something."

She tosses her bag onto the bed as I make my way downstairs.

Piper is sitting on the sofa, feet on the edge of the coffee table and computer on her lap. "Nice girlfriend you have there."

I head into the kitchen. "Phoebe's not my girlfriend."

She looks up from her laptop. "You're at a destination wedding with a person who _is not your girlfriend_ over the Christmas holiday?"

"Appears that way." I open a cupboard and find the mugs. "I'm going to make some tea. Want some?"

Piper puts her computer aside and gets to her feet. Ignoring my question, she prods, "How'd that happen?"

"Me being here?" I pull out a jar filled with teabags.

She sits on a kitchen stool and reaches for the jar. "Yeah."

"I wanted to get out of the city for a while—you know, unwind, commune with nature, drink too much eggnog…" I fill a kettle with water. "And Phoebe wanted a date for the wedding, so I agreed to join her."

"She's friends with Polly?"

"Who's Polly?"

Piper's eyes narrow like I should know who she is. "The _bride_."

"Oh." I turn on the gas stove. "I didn't pay much attention to the wedding invitation. Phoebe works with the groom." I rinse out two mugs. "You're here for the same wedding?"

Piper nods. "I'm the maid of honor."

"Congratulations." I smile. "Why aren't you hanging out with the bride?"

"She's driving up with her mom and hit some traffic along the way. They should be here just before dinner." She pulls out a few Numi teabags and reads the description of the one in the orange packet. "Assam black tea and sultry spices."

"Sultry?" I let out a short laugh. "How can spices be _sultry_?"

She issues a small smile. "Good question."

We catch each other's eye, and there's a fascinating glimmer in hers.

"Of course that's the one I want to try," I say.

She holds two little packages up. "We're in luck: there are two."

"I'm going to head to the grocery store after this." I glance in a few cupboards. "This kitchen is too nice not to be used."

"You have a car?"

I nod.

"Mind if I go with you?" She rips open the packet. "We're going to have a small gathering in the cottage the night before the wedding. I want to get some snacks and booze."

I pour water into two mugs. "Like a low-key bachelorette party?"

"Yeah." She dips a teabag into each one. "I hope that doesn't cramp your girlfriend's style."

I give her a look, and she flashes a grin like she knows she shouldn't use the term _girlfriend_ to describe Phoebe.

"It's your cottage as much as it is ours," I say. "Besides, you're the maid of honor. You're in charge of making sure the bride has a good time."

"Exactly."

Phoebe rushes downstairs. "I thought you were going for a walk?"

"It's too cold," I offer.

She puts on her coat. "If that's your excuse, you plan on staying inside a lot."

"Works for me." I take a sip of hot tea. "Mmm, I kind of get the sultry part."

Piper nods. "It sort of coats your throat."

Phoebe glances from me to Piper, then back to me. "What's going on here?"

"We're drinking tea."

She puts on her hat and gloves. "Suit yourself. I'm heading to the lobby bar. Join me if you'd like."

"I'm going to find a grocery store and get some stuff to snack on and maybe make a few meals so we don't have to drain our wallets at the hotel restaurant." I take another sip. "Any special requests?"

Phoebe stares at me. "We're at a five-star resort and you want to _cook_?"

"I enjoy cooking." I shrug.

"And saving money," Piper adds.

"You're in on this, too?"

Piper stands. "I'm going to host a little something for the bride, and Alex offered to take me to the store."

Phoebe raises her eyebrows. "Host it _here_?"

She nods.

"It'll be fine," I interject. "You and I can go to dinner at that restaurant you were telling me about on our drive up here."

She doesn't take her eyes off Piper. "I'll make a reservation for the two of us."

I walk over and kiss Phoebe on the cheek. "Go have a drink. Enjoy yourself."

"Will you meet me later?"

"Yes."

Phoebe gives Piper the stink eye once more before heading out.

"I'm getting the sense she doesn't like me."

"I'd love to be able to vouch for her," I begin, sipping my tea. "But we've only been dating for a month. You two just got off on the wrong foot. I'm sure things will be fine once she gets more into the Christmas spirit."

The look on Piper's face indicates she's not so sure about that.

* * *

I drive to the grocery store with Piper's navigational help. It's getting dark and the street signs aren't well lit. I don't know if I would've found the place without her assistance.

"Where do you live?" she asks.

"Manhattan. You?"

"Same." She smiles. "What neighborhood?"

"I'm subletting a studio in Brooklyn right now, but I have to find a new place by the end of January," I reply. "I'd like to live downtown, but the rent is nuts."

"I live in Chelsea," she says. "Rent control—I've been in the same building for five years."

"You're lucky."

"Take your next right," she directs. "I kind of inherited it. My boyfriend lived there before I moved in with him, and even though he moved out, I still benefit from rent control."

I don't know why that bothers me. "Boyfriend, huh?"

" _Ex_ -boyfriend," she replies. "We were supposed to come to the wedding together, but I broke up with him about a month ago."

I don't examine why that nugget of information relieves me. "Sorry to hear that."

"I don't like going to weddings alone, but that was no reason to stay with a man I didn't love."

"How long were you together?"

"Almost three years," she says. "Make a left on Hardwick Road, and the grocery store should be about a mile ahead."

"Most people I know would've stayed together through the wedding just to have a date." I make a left. "I'm impressed you didn't do that."

"It would've been awkward. I didn't want to put either of us through that."

"Judging from the predicament we're currently in, it appears you would've had to share a bed." I spot the grocery store and pull into the parking lot.

She smiles. "It worked out much better this way."

I return her smile. "I think so, too."


	2. Chapter 2

Two hundred dollars later, we leave the grocery store and head back to the lodge.

Piper's phone chimes. "Crap, there was a major accident on the freeway, and Polly and her mom are stuck in it."

"Are they ok?"

"They're fine, but the delay could be up to three hours." She turns on the radio. "Mind if we listen to the traffic report?"

I turn the volume up. "Try AM 950 or 1000."

She adjusts the dials until the traffic report comes on. "Just before the Ashland exit on I-93," the reporter says as if we caught him mid-sentence. "Pack your patience, ladies and gentlemen—the semi that rolled over was carrying gasoline, and it will take at least a couple hours to clean up. New Hampshire State Patrol is diverting traffic onto Highway 132, so if you haven't reached that juncture yet, we suggest finding an alternate route to your destination. Stay tuned for more after the break."

"That doesn't sound good," I say.

She calls Polly, relaying what she just heard on the news, and from what I can tell, Polly heard the same thing and is equally frustrated.

"Tonight was supposed to be the rehearsal dinner," she says when she hangs up. "I have to call the other bridesmaids and let them know it's been postponed."

We arrive back at the cottage, and I unload the groceries while Piper wraps up a call to the last bridesmaid.

"You didn't have to unload all this stuff on your own," she says.

"It's four bags," I chuckle. "I think I can handle it."

"Thank you." She takes off her hat, and just like the moment we met, her hair sticks up.

I smile. "You seem to have a hat/hair problem."

She smooths the blonde locks. "Happens every time."

I think it's adorable, but I don't say so.

I stuff the contents of two bags into the pantry. "Anyone else you need to call?"

"No." She unpacks the cold stuff, placing the items in the refrigerator. "There go my dinner plans for the evening."

"Have dinner with me." I regret those words as soon as the leave my mouth. Well, it's not the invitation I regret, it's the consequences of not checking with Phoebe, who would surely balk at the very thought of it.

"I don't think your…" she stops herself before saying 'girlfriend'. " _Phoebe_ would like that very much."

So, she's insightful—either that or intuitive. "You're probably right."

"I know at least half the guests here for the wedding. I'll reach out to some of them and see if they want to have dinner in the lodge." She walks over to the speaker in the living room. "For now, let's listen to Christmas music."

Johnny Mathis sings _It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas_ through the speaker, causing both of us to smile.

I hold up a bottle of vodka and cranberry juice. "Cocktail?"

"Definitely." She takes off her coat. "Mind if I put together some bridesmaids' gifts while you do that?"

"Sure."

"Be right back."

As she ventures upstairs, I'm left wondering how it's possible that I've been more drawn to Piper in four hours than I have been to Phoebe in four weeks. I have no idea what she does for a living, who her family is, how she met Polly or even how old she is, but Piper is intriguing, not to mention beautiful. I don't concern myself with the fact that she has an ex-boyfriend—it isn't like I'm looking for something romantic with her—or so I tell myself.

She holds up a plastic bottle and a pair of thick socks. "What do you think of this?"

I toss some ice into a cocktail shaker. "How do those two things go together?"

"You lather this lotion on your feet, and then cover them with the socks." She opens the lotion and holds it to my nose.

"Mmm, peppermint."

"I made the lotion myself—not the socks," she continues. "We all get dry feet in the winter, and this is a foot moisturizing kit for each of the bridesmaids. I hope they like it."

"You _made_ the lotion?" I shake the cocktail, and then pour it into two glasses.

"It's easy." She shrugs. "It's just shea butter, coconut oil, a little beeswax and whatever flavored essential oil you want."

I hand her a drink. "I don't know about the bridesmaids, but I'd love to receive a gift like that."

"Really?"

I nod. "Really."

Piper turns the volume louder on Nat King Cole's version of _The Christmas Song_. "This is one of my favorites."

"It's a good one." I watch her sing along and make an assembly line of lotions, socks, gift bags and ribbons. "But I'm partial to _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_."

She takes a sip of her drink. "Have you heard Sam Smith's version?"

"I haven't."

"I'm not usually a fan of pop artists singing Christmas songs, except of course, Mariah Carey…"

I grin. "Obviously."

She scrolls through her iPod. "But this one is the exception. Listen."

I close my eyes and listen to Sam Smith's silky voice sing the holiday classic. Piper's right—it's quite something. I take a deep breath in through my nose, still smelling the peppermint lotion and feeling the full sensation of Christmas surrounding me.

The song ends, and I open my eyes and smile. "I wouldn't call myself a Sam Smith fan, but that was spectacular."

"It's like he doesn't even need instruments—a cappella suits him just fine," she replies as she begins making a bow.

A sensation hits me square in the chest, and I'm struck with an overwhelming desire to spend the evening with her. As odd and sudden as it is, I want to know everything about her, and I don't want to wait another day to find out what makes her tick.

"Are you as good at making bows as you are at making cocktails?" Piper asks.

I take a sip of my drink. "I've never tied a fancy bow in my life if that's what you're asking."

"You just make two loops like you're tying a shoe, and then add a third and a fourth." She sits next to me and demonstrates. "Give yourself plenty of extra ribbon to go around the base this way twice, and then this way three times. Voilà."

"You make it look easy." I set my drink down.

"That's because it is." She hands the ribbon to me and starts out with one loop. "Take the bottom part and meet at the top."

Our fingers touch and our eyes lock, and I wonder if she feels this unexpected connection, too.

The door swings open, and Phoebe stands in the doorway. "I thought you were going to meet me at the bar?"

I let go of the bow. "Sorry, I was helping Piper with the bridal gifts."

She lifts her eyebrows and waits for more of an explanation; I don't provide one.

"I can manage," Piper offers. "Thanks anyway."

I walk over to Phoebe. "How was the bar?"

"Crowded," she replies, eyes darting between me and Piper. "I texted you twice, and when I didn't get a response, I came back to the cottage."

"I went to the store." I lean over and grab my drink, hoping to steer the conversation away from the inevitable _would you rather spend time with Piper than with me_ question that I fear is lurking in her mind. "Can I make you a cocktail?"

"I see you've made one for Piper."

Fuck.

"It's delicious." Piper takes a sip, rubbing salt in the wound.

I shoot her a look, and despite only knowing each other for a few hours, there's no mistaking what I'm trying to convey with my eyes: _Don't make this any worse than it already is_.

"Why don't we go to the restaurant and have a nice dinner together?" I try.

"Fine." She takes my hand. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with Phoebe; it's just that we haven't had the luxury of spending much time together. We met at a bar, had sex that night, went on a movie date, had sex that night, and the list goes on pretty much the same for the past month. The most conversation we've had was either while we were getting dressed after fucking or during intermission of the one off-Broadway play we saw together. There was the one time we ordered take out for dinner, but she got called into work before we were finished.

Over dinner that night, we chat about the weather, the lodge, and Christmas wish lists. She tells me a little more about Pete, the groom, and I tell her about the disastrous wedding I went to over the summer. There's nothing deep about our conversation, and I don't find anything she says to be particularly stimulating. Halfway through our meal, I find myself thinking about Piper. I try to banish those thoughts, but it's hard when I'm getting an earful about how Phoebe's ex-girlfriend took her to Maui for Christmas last year.

Just as we're paying the bill, which couldn't come soon enough, two women approach our table, introducing themselves to me as Phoebe's co-workers. "We're going to have a nightcap down the street at Perry's Pub. Care to join us?"

She turns to me. "Alex?"

"I'm exhausted. I think I'll head back to the cottage."

"Would you mind if I went out for a bit?" Phoebe asks.

"I don't mind. Have fun."

I make my way out of the restaurant, admiring the lobby once again. It's filled with couples and friends, enjoying each other's company and general holiday cheer. I consider ordering another glass of wine and hanging out for a bit, but something is drawing me back to the cottage. I don't examine too closely what or _who_ that is.

* * *

I walk into the cottage and all the lights are off except for a lamp in the kitchen and the lights on the Christmas tree. There are at least five candles flickering on the coffee and side tables and the glow from the wall-mounted television.

Piper blinks up at me. "I ate all the pizza bites."

Earlier when we strolled down the frozen food aisle at the grocery store, I confessed that pizza bites are my guilty pleasure. She laughed, saying she hadn't eaten a pizza bite since she was a teenager, but her guilty pleasure is mini-egg rolls. We bought a box of each.

Ignoring her confession, I toss my key on the counter. "This looks more like the aftermath of a breakup than it does the start of a wedding."

"I was thinking about last Christmas." She mutes the TV, and I see she's watching _It's a Wonderful Life_. "Larry and I bought matching ugly Christmas sweaters and went caroling in the park."

I sit at the opposite end of the sofa. "Which do you miss more—Larry or the ugly Christmas sweaters?"

She lets out a wet laugh, and it's evident she's been crying. "I don't even know you. I'm not going to bore you with the woes of my love life."

"I doubt that whatever you tell me would be boring," I reply. "But I should warn you: I'm not very good at relationships myself, ergo I'm probably not the best at giving advice."

" _Ergo_?" she asks.

"You know, _therefore_ ," I respond. "Sorry, thought you'd know the meaning."

"I know the word—I took Latin in seventh grade," she says with a tiny smile. "It's just rare to hear _ergo_ in a sentence nowadays."

"What can I say, I'm a word snob."

Her tiny smile lingers. "So am I."

I nod, feeling another fascinating though trivial connection to Piper.

"I've wanted to talk to someone about my whole breakup, but Polly has been knee-deep in wedding planning as she should be, and this isn't the sort of thing I'd share with my parents or siblings."

I lift my shoulders. "Maybe talking about it with somewhat of a stranger would help."

"Maybe."

I take that as my cue to begin. "You did say _you_ broke up with _him_ , right?"

She nods.

I stretch my arm across the back of the sofa. "What happened?"

"Larry was a pleaser." She shrugs. "He didn't have his own identity. The closer we got, the more he withdrew from his friends and latched onto everything in my life. I went on this whole body cleanse thing, and he did it with me. At first, I thought he was doing it to support me, but that wasn't the main reason."

I allow her to continue.

"I became his crutch." She wipes her nose with a Kleenex. "He never held a full-time job as long as I've known him, and he had no motivation to make something of his life. Larry was satisfied with the status quo," she pauses. "Maybe I'm selfish—maybe I should thank my lucky stars that he was so into me."

"It sounds like you want more out of life than he does," I say. "You shouldn't settle for someone who doesn't meet your expectations."

"I want someone who _exceeds_ my expectations." She faces me, tucking one leg under her butt and her eyes sparkle in the candlelight. "Someone who likes adventure; someone who challenges me—whose wit and intelligence matches my own; someone who makes me a better version of myself."

I smile. "I want that, too."

We sit in silence for a moment, and I'm captivated by her beauty. Piper is the kind of person I'd like to be with—she's kind and creative and contemplative. She alluded to being smart and witty, though I don't really have proof of those traits yet, but I have no doubt they'll be true.

"I didn't just up and leave him," she continues as if she needs to explain her actions further. "We had multiple conversations about his lack of motivation and dependency on his parents for income. He never did anything about it." She shakes her head. "We were supposed to go away with Polly and Pete for Thanksgiving, and we were in charge of the turkey, wine and desserts. I'd asked Larry to go to the grocery store twice, and by Wednesday night, he still hadn't gone. We got in a huge fight, and he confessed that he didn't have the money to buy the groceries."

"Wow."

"But he had the money to buy the latest shoot 'em up video game," she says with frustration. "That was it—I was done. I told him I was tired of fighting about the same old stuff and he'd proven he wasn't willing to change. I left that night and never looked back."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I needed something stupid like the whole Thanksgiving thing to happen to finally pull the trigger," she confesses.

"It wasn't stupid, it was pivotal. If he couldn't get his act together enough to pay _fifty fucking bucks_ for groceries, I don't blame you for being upset."

She blinks at me. "Upset enough to break up with him?"

"That's not the reason you left, Piper," I try. "It sounds like it had been building up for a long time, and that was the moment you chose not to take it anymore. You stood your ground; you should be proud of that."

Piper sniffs. "Yeah, I guess."

"Do you feel like you have closure?"

"Not really," she admits. "But I don't think I need it. I miss the idea of being with him—being with _someone_ —at the wedding and over the holidays."

"I get it." I put my hand on her bent knee. "That doesn't make you a bad person; it makes you human."

She smiles. "For not being good at relationship advice, you seem to have nailed this one."

"Really?" I lift my eyebrows.

"Yeah."

I remove my hand and link my fingers together and stretch my arms out. "What other problems can I solve tonight?"

Her lips venture upwards. "How about the case of the missing pizza bites?"

"Oh, there's no mystery where those are—at the bottom of your stomach." I walk to the kitchen. "You owe me $4.30," I joke.

"I'll Venmo you when I have enough money in my account." So she _is_ witty.

"Tell you what." I pull a bottle of Pinot Noir off the shelf. "Share your wine with me and we'll call it even."

"Only if you'll watch the rest of this movie with me." She unmutes the television.

"I've only seen _It's a Wonderful Life_ like fifty times." I open the wine. "You'll have to explain the plot to me."

"So there's this guy, George Bailey…" she plays along.

I pour the wine into two glasses. "And he has a fuck ton of problems and thinks about ending his life?"

"You catch on quickly."

I detect a smile on her face—she's got a stunning smile—but I don't confirm it in the dim light until I make my way back into the living room.

We drink wine and watch the movie in silence for the first few minutes. I _have_ seen the movie many times, so I have no interest in paying attention to what's happening on screen. Instead, I think about the woman next to me. She just told me about her ex-boyfriend and why they broke up—I don't think I've told any woman, much less Phoebe, about why or how my former relationships ended. I guess I haven't felt invested enough in any relationship to divulge that kind of personal information.

"Where's Phoebe?" she asks out of nowhere.

I take a sip of wine. "She went out with some co-workers."

"You didn't want to go?"

I swivel my head on the back of the sofa to look at her, but her eyes are glued to the television. "No." I leave it at that.

Piper's phone buzzes next to her, and she glances at the text message. "Polly's finally here."

I expected a little more exuberance in her tone.

"I'm sure she's relieved to be off the road."

"I should meet her." She removes the blanket. "Thanks for listening to my sob story."

"It wasn't a sob story, but you're welcome," I say. "I'm glad you're on the other side of it now."

"Me, too." She smiles. "Not sure what Polly will want to do tonight, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

I take the blanket Piper was using and cover myself. "I'll let you know how the movie ends."

She smiles. "The suspense will kill me."

* * *

Author's Note: I'm overwhelmed with the number of positive reviews! Thank you so much!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I'm spoiling you with every day posts as a Christmas gift to each of you! I hope to be able to post tomorrow, but I won't post over the weekend as I plan to spend some quality pre-Christmas time with my real life love.

* * *

I'm awakened at half past one in the morning to the sound of retching in the bathroom. I lift my head off the pillow, prepared to help Phoebe expel what I assume is copious amounts of alcohol from her body, but something stops me. Am I an awful person for not wanting to hold her hair back while she pukes? I fall back asleep with that thought swirling in my head.

My plan to sleep late that morning is thwarted by the snoring person next to me who is also taking up half the bed. That's when I realize Phoebe and I have never spent the night together. Every time we've had sex, there were a few minutes of post-coitus cuddling, but we've never slept together overnight. This should be a time to bask in the glow of our first sleepover; instead, I roll out of bed and head downstairs eager to see the cottage's other occupant.

I glance around the living room in the tranquility of morning and see traces of Piper all over the room. A slow smile glides across my face—there's the blanket she was under last night, the half-burnt candles on the coffee and side tables, her white coat hanging on a hook and her pink hat on the arm of the sofa. I don't see any traces of Phoebe, though perhaps they're all around me and I simply don't notice.

As I make my way to the kitchen, I flip the switch to turn on the gas fireplace. I'm pleased to see a full-sized coffee maker. I wonder if Piper is a coffee drinker. There's a lot I don't know about her. Excitement courses through my veins at the thought of finding out more. What does she do for a living? Where did she grow up? What are her hobbies? What type of exercise does she do to maintain such a fit body?

"Morning." Piper pads down the stairs in red pajamas and slippers. Her hair is a mess, and I can't help smiling.

"Good Morning."

She sits on the stool across from me just as she did the day before. "Did Santa Claus pass last night?"

"We'll have to wait two more days for that."

She takes in a big breath through her nose. "I smell coffee."

I check the pot to see if there's enough to pour a cup yet. "I didn't know if you were a coffee drinker."

"Please tell me we have something other than powdered creamer. I hate that stuff."

"I bought milk yesterday." I reach into the refrigerator. "Is that better than the powdered stuff in your book?"

"Yes." She walks over to the counter behind me, grabbing the jar of sugar and sweeteners. "Want some sugar?"

"Just a touch. And milk if you're pouring." I slide two mugs towards her. "What did you end up doing last night?"

"Went to Polly's room to help her unpack, and then we had a drink at the lobby bar."

I fill the mugs with coffee. "Why aren't you sharing a room with her?"

"She stayed with Pete last night, has her own room tonight, and then obviously they'll share the room on their wedding night." She lifts the green mug to her lips. "Thank you."

"They didn't want a cottage?" I move into the living room.

Piper follows, switching on the Christmas music and turning the volume down. "They're in the presidential suite. It's actually more square footage than this place."

"Wow." I sip my coffee. "Is she nervous about the big day?"

"I don't think so." She sits on the sofa, pulling the red plaid blanket over her legs. "She was frustrated about the traffic last night and that they had to reschedule the rehearsal dinner." She holds up a corner of the blanket. "Do you want some of this?"

I contemplate sitting next to her for a moment, but I don't think that would look good if Phoebe walked in. "I'm fine, thanks." The likelihood of her waking up in the next half hour is slim, but I don't want to risk it. "What time did you get in last night?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"Who didn't tell me what?"

She takes another sip of coffee. "Phoebe—I brought her back here around one."

I crease my brow. " _You_ brought her here?"

She nods. "She was sitting on a bench outside the lobby, talking to herself…or singing, I couldn't quite tell."

I know Phoebe is a lightweight, but to be _that_ drunk where she couldn't get to the cottage is surprising.

"Sorry about that." I lean forward. "Did she say anything? Explain why she was sitting alone in the cold?"

"Not really." Piper has a look on her face like I should know more, but she's choosing not to provide details. "You'd have to ask her." She swivels her neck from one side of the room to the other and changes the subject. "This is a beautiful place, isn't it?"

"It is." I go along with her train of thought—no need to talk about Phoebe right now. "I've never stayed in a place this nice or this decked out for Christmas."

She flashes a nostalgic smile but doesn't add anything. "Whose camera bag is that?"

"Mine."

"Is photography your hobby?" She sips her coffee.

"It's my job," I offer.

"Are you the wedding photographer?" She raises her eyebrows.

"God, no." I chuckle. "I've done two weddings and swore to never take part in such a commotion ever again."

"Bridezillas?"

"It's not just the bride," I begin. "The mother of the bride is usually ten times worse, and then you have the rest of the bridal party. It's three or four hours of people telling you what to do. Besides, there's very little creativity involved in photographing weddings."

"Makes sense," she replies. "What kind of photography do you do?"

"I've been really into action shots lately. I bought a new lens that's perfect for it."

"Like sports?"

"Not sporting events per se," I respond. "More like a little boy's expression as he's hitting a ball with a bat or a bird flapping its wings before landing on a branch—anything that involves movement."

"Sounds interesting." She sips her coffee. "Do you freelance?"

"I've worked for Getty Images for the past eight years." I go into the kitchen and get the coffee pot. "At the beginning of the month they give me a call sheet with 30 or 40 shots they want me to capture. As long as I nail those, I can shoot whatever I want." I pour the coffee into my mug. "Refill?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll bring the milk and sugar." I return to the kitchen. "The reason my bag is down here is because I want to walk around the property and take some pictures in the snow."

"I love going for long walks in the winter. Mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all." I pour a little milk into her coffee and try to hide my eagerness to spend more time with her. "What time do the wedding festivities begin?"

"The rehearsal dinner that was supposed to happen last night has turned into a rehearsal luncheon at noon." She drops half a spoonful of sugar into her mug. "But I have to meet Polly for her final dress fitting at 11:30."

"No breakfast plans?"

"No. It's kind of nice." She smiles.

I return to my spot on the sofa, this time taking her up on her earlier offer of covering myself with half of her blanket. "I bought some yogurt and berries. You're welcome to have some."

She doesn't scoot over when providing the blanket to me, so our legs touch. "Maybe we could eat that, and then when we're out and about, we could find the bakery everyone's been talking about."

"What bakery?" Exhilaration courses through my body as our thighs press together and I can feel her warmth.

"I think it's called Tall Grass. They're known for their croissants."

If Piper is affected by our proximity, she doesn't let on. I'm left wondering if she's 100% straight. Why would I think otherwise? She and her boyfriend just broke up and she's shown no signs of flirtation. Sure, she has been interested in hanging out with me, but perhaps this is a mere three-day friendship to her. There's nothing wrong with that, but why does it disappoint me?

"I could fuck up a croissant," I say.

She giggles. "So could I."

"What about Phoebe?"

"My guess is she'll be in bed for the foreseeable future." I stand, taking another long swig of coffee. "She puked her guts out last night."

"I'm not surprised."

"I'm going to go brush my teeth and get dressed." I put my mug in the sink. "Meet down here in 10 minutes?"

She nods.

I enter our room, wondering if I should let Phoebe sleep or announce my plans for the morning. She rolls over and her eyes flutter open.

"Hi," I say. "How are you feeling?"

"Not so good."

"Here's some ibuprofen." I open a pill bottle. "I'm going to go take some photos around the lodge."

She leans over and pops two pills in her mouth. "I'm going to sleep for a little longer."

As I pull the covers up, I admit to myself that I don't have feelings for her. There's a pang in my chest at that realization, though I don't let it bring me down. As shallow as it sounds, Phoebe is nice to look at and fairly good in bed, but she's not a good conversationalist nor is she very inspiring. It can't be a surprise to her that we lack chemistry, and that is proving more and more true as the days go on.

* * *

Piper and I eat our yogurt and blueberries while talking more about photography. Turns out she took two classes in college and owns an old Nikon that her grandfather gave her.

I didn't really notice her clothing yesterday, but today, it's hard to tear my eyes away. She's wearing black leggings and a purple sweater with a white t-shirt peeking out. Her hair is pulled away from her face with a thick, snowflake patterned headband. Not for the first time, I'm struck by her attractiveness. There's something about her that draws me in—maybe it's her expressiveness or her glowing smile or the way she leans in when I speak.

I pull on my gloves. "Are you going to be warm enough?"

"Yeah. I have on three layers." She adjusts the headband over her ears. "How are you going to take pictures wearing gloves?"

"These are tech gloves," I reply, pulling out my camera and fiddling with the aperture ring. "Smile." I snap her picture.

"I wasn't ready!"

"Ok, try again." She smiles, and I click. "Let me see." Piper leans close to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. She smells like peppermint and vanilla. "Not bad."

I smile at her instead of the photograph. "Not bad at all."

* * *

It's a cold but sunny morning, and the landscape of pine trees and snow is breathtaking. There's so much to photograph that I'm almost overwhelmed.

Piper points to a wooden directional sign. "Which way should we go—the pond or the field?"

"Let's do the pond loop." I follow her down the path. "You never told me what you do for a living."

She pushes a few branches out of the way as we find the plowed pathway. "I'm in special events."

I stop short. "Are you planning Polly and Pete's wedding?"

"No." She lets out a soft laugh. "Like you, I've done weddings in the past and they're a nightmare."

"Tell me about it." I stop and take a picture of holly berries against the white snow. "What types of events do you do?"

"I'm in the corporate division of my company," she begins. "So I do a lot of milestone parties, a few conferences and seminars. I had two holiday parties earlier this month—those are my favorite."

"Are you a big fan of Christmas?"

"Not just Christmas." She shoves her gloved hands in her pockets. "I love Thanksgiving and Halloween, too. Not a huge fan of Easter or Memorial Day, but Independence Day is pretty fun with all the fireworks and barbecues."

I take a picture looking straight up at the tall, snow-covered pines with the blue sky in the background. "Do you have to work a lot on holidays?"

"Not really. Most companies are off during the big ones, so the parties or events typically happen _before_ not _on_ the big day." She pauses and points in the distance. "Alex, look."

I notice two rabbits gnawing on something in a field. I crouch down and take four or five shots.

"They're so cute," she whispers right behind me.

Once again, I'm assaulted by the scent of her.

"Let me see." She gently pulls the camera towards her. "That's a good one."

I turn my attention to the field again and see one bunny on top of the other. "Are they…?"

"Fucking like rabbits?" She covers her mouth, stifling laughter.

"So that really is a thing."

Piper puts a hand on my arm and doubles over with laughter effectively scaring the bunnies away. Her laughter causes me to do the same, and a wave of levity washes over me. I _really_ like being with her.

"Enough animal porn." I stand, offering her a hand. "Let's keep walking."

She finally stops laughing, takes my hand and walks a few feet. My heart beats wildly as I hold hands with Piper, and I don't want the moment to end. Nevertheless, she drops it after a few more seconds, and I already miss her touch.

We walk mostly in silence for the next five minutes, me stopping to take pictures and Piper trying to figure out what it is I'm hoping to capture. I feel young again—like I'm in college on a walk with a girl I like in grade school. She points out a few things she wants me to shoot, like a snow-covered bench or a frozen stream, so I oblige. I remind her that I'm more interested in living subjects, and she eagerly switches gears.

As we make our way around a bend, Piper sees a hummingbird with a magenta head perched on a slender branch. "Look," she whispers.

I carefully bend down and take eight to ten shots.

She crouches down next to me, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my thigh. "It's so beautiful and still."

"I love hummingbirds," I admit, taking a few more pictures.

"Did you know that depending on the species, hummingbird wings beat from 750 to 5,400 times per minute when hovering?"

I turn to her, snapping her photograph. "I did not know that."

I captured her amazement, making me smile with delight.

"Are you an Ornithologist?" I ask.

"No, but I know a lot of random trivia."

"Tell me some facts about Christmas songs I might not know."

"Hmm…" she squinches her lips to the side. "The origins of Christmas songs dates back to around the 4th century when some of the first Latin Christian hymns were written about Jesus. They were sung during church Christmas celebrations and eventually evolved into the songs we recognize today."

"Fourth century, huh?"

She nods. " _Oh Come All Ye Faithful_ is one of the oldest Christmas songs in the world."

"I like that you know random shit like that," I say through a smile. "Unless you're pulling my leg."

"I'm not," she defends. "You can look them up when we get back."

"I trust you."

We lock eyes, and it's like this… _certainty_ hits me in the chest—like whatever she says, I'll believe it; if she chooses the path on the left, I'll know it's the right way.

Without removing her gaze, she says, "I trust you, too."

We exchange somewhat bashful smiles and continue walking.

I unstrap the camera from around my neck. "Do you want to try to take a few pictures?"

"I'd like that." She takes it. "Anything I need to know about this thing?"

I show her how to work the dials, and our fingers touch several times. "You probably won't be able to operate the camera with those gloves. Wear mine."

We trade gloves and I find it quite intimate—like I'm a child with my first girlfriend who I've just switched necklaces with.

"Yours are warm and toasty," she comments.

I show her a few more features of the camera and hear something in the distance. "Piper, look."

A doe and her fawn are grazing under a tree about 20 feet away.

"Oh my God," she says with reverence.

Since we immediately paused, my arms are still around her shoulders, and she leans back against me.

"Are you going to take their picture?" I whisper.

Piper lifts the camera slowly, takes a photo or two of the deer, and then turns the camera on us. She has somehow captured in my expression all the joy and wonder that I feel.

"I like it," I say.

"I like it maybe a little _too_ much," she replies in an equally hushed tone.

"There's no such thing as too much," I say, brushing her hair off her shoulder, allowing my hand to linger as my fingertips touch her neck.

The intimate moment is interrupted when someone calls her name from across the way.

A man waves. "Piper!" He's with two other guys.

"Pete?" she enquires. "What are you doing out here?"

"Taking a walk just like you, I assume." He approaches us.

"We're taking pictures." She lifts the camera. "Alex is a professional photographer."

"How do you do, Alex?" Pete shakes my hand. "This is Kerry and Mike, two of my groomsmen."

"Beautiful morning for a walk," I add.

"How do you two know each other?" Pete asks.

"Phoebe is Alex's girlfriend," Piper says. "I mean _date_. She's her date."

"Date? I didn't know she brought one."

I raise a hand at my hip. "She did."

"Huh." He seems surprised. "I trust she made it back ok last night?"

"Yeah, why?"

"She was pretty shitfaced," he says.

I wonder if she made a fool of herself. "She's sleeping it off."

"Well, don't let us keep you."

"I'll see you at the rehearsal luncheon," Piper replies.

He nods. "Enjoy your walk."

When we're far enough away from the men, Piper turns to me. "Did you get a weird feeling about Phoebe? Like Pete was trying to hide something?"

"I did."

"Maybe she did a keg stand or something equally stupid that drunk people do," she says.

"I don't know, but I'll get to the bottom of it when we get back."

We arrive at the highway and Piper looks up directions to Tall Grass Bakery on her phone. I order an almond croissant, and Piper gets a chocolate one, and we decide to split them. Although I wasn't privy to the hype about the bakery, Piper assures me the croissants live up to it. The moment we shared while we were watching the deer is gone, and it's back to a normal, friendly, _safe_ conversation.

By the time we make it back to the cottage, it's just past 11 am, and Piper needs to be at Polly's dress fitting in 30 minutes. She rushes past Phoebe, neither woman greeting each other, and bolts upstairs to shower. I've gone from joy and laughter to dread and uneasiness upon seeing Phoebe.

"Where have you been?" she demands.

"I told you I was going to take some pictures around the lodge." I set my camera bag down. "Want to see any of them?"

She takes a gulp of water. "Not really."

"How are you feeling?"

She tosses her head back, closing her eyes. "Shitty."

"We ran into Pete along the trail a little while ago," I say. "He was worried about you."

"I had too much to drink last night."

"I know." I sit in the armchair across from her, removing my gloves. "Piper said she had to walk you back here."

Phoebe sits up. "Did she tell you anything else?"

I cross my eyebrows. "Like what?"

"That she tried to make a move on me?"

"What?" I let out a skeptical laugh. "Surely you're mistaken."

She shakes her head. "I know what I saw."

I'm having a very difficult time believing her. "Why would Piper do that? She knows you and I are here together."

"I don't know." She shrugs. "She was super touchy—couldn't keep her hands off me."

I stand. "Maybe she was trying to make sure your coat was on properly."

"Please, don't embarrass her," Phoebe says. "We were both drunk. I'm sure it didn't mean anything."

"I…" This simply cannot be true. "Wow, um…ok." I shake my head. "I'm going to take a shower."

I walk upstairs, wondering why Phoebe would make such a story up, and then I think back to my discussion with Piper this morning. Could it possibly be that Piper doesn't feel anything for me at all; instead, she wants to get closer to Phoebe? I don't believe that for a second, but I need to be sure.

I knock on her bedroom door. "Can I come in?" I turn the knob, finding it unlocked. "Piper?" I move further into the room, feeling like an intruder and wondering if this was a bad idea.

A shrill sound escapes Piper's mouth as she wraps a towel more firmly around her body. "What the fuck are you doing in here? You scared the crap out of me!"

My eyes are first drawn to her shoulders and the little droplets of water clinging to her skin. They trail down her body to her long legs and polished toenails. I quickly look away. "Sorry."

"Did you get the wrong room?"

"No." I turn my back to her and fold my arms. "Phoebe just told me something alarming that I wanted to run by you before jumping to conclusions."

I can see her through the side mirror, and she lowers her towel, replacing it with a long t-shirt. Her body is incredible—curvy and thin but toned. When I notice her erect nipples, I slam my eyes shut and inhale sharply.

"So you just decided to burst into my room without knocking?"

"I knocked," I try. "I shouldn't have come in though. I'm sorry."

"You can turn around now." She puts a hand on the counter and stares at me, t-shirt clinging to her damp skin. "What was so important that it couldn't wait ten minutes?"

"Phoebe said you tried to make a move on her last night," I blurt out.

"What?" Her face contorts. She seems to be trying to conceal an audacious laugh. "I mean, _**what**_? Phoebe was either drunker than I thought or she's fucking with you. _She_ was the one coming on to me. I can assure you, I thwarted off her advances."

"She came on to you?" I reflect to my conversation with Piper this morning when she told me she had to escort Phoebe home. At the time, I felt like there was something she was leaving out, and now it's clear what that was.

She nods. "I have _no_ desire to be with her," she begins with a tight head shake. "If anything, I want to be with you," she pauses, stands up straight and back tracks. "Uh, um, I mean, you know, as companions." She motions a finger between us. "…friends."

" _Friends_." I feel a smile spread like butter across my face. "Good to know."

"It's not like we could, you know…" she trails off and swallows hard. "You're here with Phoebe."

"I'm here with her, yes." I take a step closer, picking up her left hand. "But I'd rather spend time with you."

"I…" Her mouth twitches in the most adorable way. "I really have to go. Polly will kill me if I'm late."

I rub the back of her hand with my thumb, and then release it. "I guess I'll see you later."

She nods, expression shifting from one of nervousness and shock to a more relaxed grin. "See you later."

I back out of the room, elated.

I quickly break out of my euphoria when I decide to immediately confront Phoebe about her repugnant lie.

* * *

Author's Note: Again, thank you so much for the thoughtful reviews! I recognize many of you who've written reviews with a username as supporters of my past stories, and it always warms my heart to see the messages you leave. It's exciting to see some new names as well! What overwhelms me about the reviews isn't the number, but the surprising attraction many of you have to Vauseman fluff. I had no idea there was such a demand for it!

Thanks for your wishes for a longer story, though I'm sorry to report that's not in the cards. I complete my stories before posting chapter one, and then I return to tweak things when I'm done. That way, I'll never leave you stranded with a WIP and you can be sure that I don't change the direction of any storyline due to readers' feedback. I _can_ tell you this will be longer than four chapters, but not by much—maybe six. Again, know that each of you puts a smile on my face when you tell me you're enjoying this story. Merry Christmas!


	4. Chapter 4

I stand at the bottom of the stairwell and fold my arms, jutting my chin out. "You lied to me."

She spins around. "No, I didn't."

"You did," I state decisively. "Piper didn't grope you or try to make a move on you. She's not even remotely attracted to you."

"You believe _her_ over me?"

"Yeah, I do, and that should tell you something." I step further into the living room. "It should tell _us_ something."

"Admit it—you'd rather spend more time with Piper than with me."

"I'll admit _that_ if you admit you lied," I counter.

"Fine, I lied!" She throws her hands in the air. "What was I supposed to do? Tag along with the two of you like a lovesick puppy?"

Despite the fury inside me, I very calmly sit on the edge of the coffee table across from her. "You and I have very little in common, Phoebe. That was proven even more at dinner last night when we talked more about the weather than what we'd like to do while we're on this trip." I pause. "Do you really want to drag this out when it's obvious we're not a good match?"

She averts her eyes. "I want you to be my date to this wedding."

"Fine." I stand again. "I will sit next to you at the wedding, but that's it. I won't dance with you or raise a glass with you. I don't want to hang out or pretend we're some sort of loving couple." I lean forward, towering over her. "If I find out you spread rumors about me and Piper or about _you_ and Piper, you'll regret it." I walk to the stairwell. "I'm moving my stuff into the spare bedroom." When I reach the fourth step, I turn back to her. "And in case I didn't make it crystal clear, we're finished."

I hear her mutter _fuck you_ under her breath, but there's no need for me to respond. I said what I needed to say. The thing is, it didn't have to be this way. Yes, I'm starting to have feelings for Piper, but I wouldn't have acted on them until after having a conversation with Phoebe about our dead end relationship. That might have been a day from now, a week from now or even a month from now. Phoebe put herself in this position.

* * *

I spend the rest of the day in the cozy lobby reading one of the many holiday-themed novels, having lunch at the Tall Grass Bakery and going for another walk just before sunset. When I head back to the cottage, I decide to upload the photos I took this morning. There are at least four shots of me and Piper, and each one brings a smile to my face and joy to my heart. Damn if we're not a cute couple—not that we _are_ a couple, but if we were, we'd look good together. I spend far more time staring at those than at the ones I can turn in for work purposes.

My mind is unsettled, and I feel bad for the way things turned out with Phoebe. I knew from the start that our relationship was probably headed nowhere, but after meeting Piper, I'm even more convinced that Phoebe isn't the person I'm supposed to be with. Even if Piper isn't interested in a romantic relationship with me, she is proof that other more exciting and compatible women are out there. (But God, I hope she is.)

I find a note taped to my bedroom door from Phoebe. She's decided to spend the evening with co-workers. _Good_ , I think. I would be happy to spend a few days alone, but Phoebe doesn't strike me as the type who would choose that. It's like she constantly needs to be validated by others.

I turn on the Christmas music, smiling as the first song, _Oh Come All Ye Faithful_ wafts through the speaker and remembering Piper's silly fact about the song. I pour milk into a pot, preparing to make old fashioned hot chocolate. The snow started falling as I headed back to the cottage after my walk, and now it's coming down in chunks. It's the perfect winter evening to spend inside drinking hot chocolate and listening to festive music.

"Alex?"

And it just got even better.

Piper breezes in, looking from left to right, a smile dances across her face when she spots me in the kitchen. "Hey."

"Hi." As discreetly as possible, I eye her up and down. "I didn't get a chance to see you before you left this morning."

She removes her outerwear, revealing a rose-colored dress that's fitted at the top and pleated and flaring at the bottom. It looks like something a ballerina would wear but meant for a nice dinner or night on the town.

"You look...beautiful."

"Thank you." She glances at her dress, pulling the flared bottom. "I was worried this color was too light for winter, but the salesperson told me it was trending this season."

"I'm sure it is," I reply, regaining my composure. "I never really understood the whole 'winter white' thing. Is it a different shade of white than 'summer white'?"

"Winter white is more of an ivory or a slightly greyed out white, like ecru." She opens the bag of mini-marshmallows on the counter. "And it's usually thicker material than the clothing you'd find in the summer."

"Good to know." Her random trivia amuses me.

She leans over the counter. "Are you making old fashioned hot chocolate?"

I nod, squeezing the chocolate syrup into the milk. "My mom used to make it over the holidays when I was younger."

"Does she still make it?"

"Yeah," I reply. "This is only the second Christmas I'll spend away from her."

She pops a marshmallow into her mouth. "What's she doing this Christmas?"

"Before I decided to come to the wedding, she told me she had an opportunity to go to Ft. Lauderdale with some friends." I lower the heat on the stove. "I guess one of them owns a timeshare."

Piper pulls out the same two mugs we used for our coffee this morning. "Are the two of you close?"

"Very. She lives in Rye, so I see her every other week or so." I stir the hot chocolate. "What about your family?"

Her shoulders sag. "Ugh, what about them?"

I snag one of the marshmallows. "I guess that answers my question."

"My parents live in Connecticut and are still married, though they don't seem to get along anymore; I have an older brother who's a doctor in Australia; and a younger one who grows pot in my parents' basement. He's convinced that's how he'll make millions."

"As far as I know, recreational pot is illegal in Connecticut, but who knows?" I shrug. "Hopefully that'll change soon, and he'll be rich passing some of his fortune on to his big sister."

She snorts. "I doubt it."

"Do you visit them often?"

"No, they live in the most boring suburb that's ever existed." She holds a handful of marshmallows. "Do you like to put these in _before_ you pour the hot chocolate or after?"

"Definitely after." I dispense an equal amount in each mug. "So, no regrets in not spending Christmas with them?"

"None." She drops a dollop of marshmallows in each cup. "In fact, I feel like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be this Christmas."

"That makes two of us." I tap my mug against hers and hold her gaze for a couple seconds. "How did the dress fitting and rehearsal thing go today?"

"The dress fitting went well. They didn't have to alter anything, so Polly was happy about that. I swear she's been starving herself this last month to fit perfectly into her dress." She flips on the switch to the gas fireplace and heads to the sofa. "The luncheon was a little weird. They served the same meal they were supposed to serve last night for dinner, so it was a heavy lunch with a choice of steak and potato or vegetarian lasagna."

"Ugh, that's not the kind of thing I'd expect to eat for lunch." I hold my belly. "Did Polly enjoy it?"

"No, and I think her mom had words with the general manager." She pats the cushion next to her and smiles. "Sit with me."

I sit closer to her than I have before. "I guess they had the menu already planned and didn't want to waste all that food."

"I guess." She sips the hot chocolate. "This is delicious."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I ended up spending another couple of hours with Polly, reviewing the wedding details," Piper says. "She's a little nervous about the snow storm that's supposed to come through tonight and tomorrow."

"Nothing she can do about the weather," I comment. "Do you think she's ready for the big day?"

She shrugs. "As ready as any bride can be, I guess."

"Does Polly know about the low key bachelorette party tonight?"

She nods. "I told her about it, and she insists that we get together after dinner for dessert and a few cocktails, but she wants to go to bed early."

"I don't blame her." I pull the blanket over our legs. "Do you need any help setting up?"

"Not unless you feel like baking two dozen Christmas cookies."

I lift my shoulders. "Why not?"

"Really? You'll help?"

"I suppose I could postpone reading another Christmas novel to help you," I respond with a smirk.

We're quiet for a moment, and it feels natural—comfortable. It's not an awkward silence hanging in the air like I experienced with Phoebe. On those occasions, I felt like I had to say something— _anything_ —to fill in the gap in our conversation. Instead, I listen to the music and enjoy my physical proximity to Piper.

After a minute or so, Piper speaks up. "What happened with Phoebe this morning?"

"I confronted her about lying to me." I exhale a lengthy breath. "She eventually admitted it."

She crumples her forehead. "Why'd she lie?"

"She didn't like that I was spending more time with you than with her."

"I can understand that." Piper stares at her lap. "It probably wasn't appropriate to tag along with you to the grocery store yesterday and on the walk this morning."

"She had no interest in going with me to the store or on the walk." I shake my head in small bursts. "That's on _Phoebe_ , not you," I pause. "I told her we don't have much in common and we shouldn't try to force our relationship into something more."

"How'd she take it?"

I sip my hot chocolate. "She didn't outwardly agree with me; she just asked me to be her date at the wedding."

"Did you agree to that?"

"I told her I'd sit next to her during the ceremony, but that would be the end of it." I keep to myself that I threatened Phoebe if she spread rumors about either of us.

She covers my free hand with hers, and my whole body tingles. "Sorry you went through all that."

"It was going to happen eventually." I shrug. "We truly have nothing in common and I don't find her interesting in the least bit."

She blinks up at me. "Then why were you with her?"

"The sex was decent," I lob out there. I sip my cocoa to hide the blush that I feel creeping up my neck. "And I didn't want to be alone for Christmas."

" _Decent_?" It's Piper's turn to blush.

"I certainly wouldn't call it _good_."

"I couldn't tell you the last time I had _good_ sex." She sips her hot chocolate, and I wonder if, like me, it's to conceal her blush.

I'm a bit surprised we're talking about sex, but I won't pass up the opportunity even to hear Piper utter the word—it sounds erotic coming out of her mouth.

"Not with Larry, I assume?"

"Definitely not with Larry," she chuckles.

I'm all but holding my breath, hoping— _praying_ —she says it was with another woman.

"Then who?"

"It was a one-night stand with a client in London," she begins. "It's rare that I travel overseas for work, but four years ago, we did this big anniversary party for a law firm that has multiple branches all over the world."

 _Client_? That doesn't help.

"My primary contact worked in the London office and was in touch with me regularly for about three months. When we met face-to-face, there was an instant connection."

 _Contact_? My God, she's killing me.

I ensure the appropriate amount of levity in my tone. "So, what? You fucked at the party venue?"

"I'm classier than that," she snickers. "We went back to my hotel room, and one thing led to another." She closes her eyes as if imagining the moment. "It was really good."

I ball my hand into a fist of frustration not about Piper having sex, but about her not revealing the gender of the other person. Is she purposely concealing this from me? I've known her for a grand total of 30 hours—I hardly feel comfortable asking such a personal question.

"Anyway, that was the last time I had good sex." She gets up, sips the rest of her hot chocolate, and I swear she's hiding a smirk. "We should probably start making the cookies." Piper walks towards the kitchen and I hang my head, wondering if I'll ever know if the last time she had _good_ sex was with a man or a woman.

* * *

Author's Note: Am I naughty or nice for leaving this as the last chapter you'll read until Monday? Hope you enjoyed it.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: It's rare that I respond to reviews, but I responded to one on my tumblr account. Just look me up by my name if you're curious. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

"I bought pre-made cookie dough." She opens the refrigerator and pulls out three rolls of Pillsbury. "I have two sugar cookies and one chocolate chip."

"Chocolate chip for Christmas? That just seems wrong." I take it from her, putting in back in the fridge. "It's hard enough for me to wrap my head around pre-made dough let alone non-traditional chocolate chip."

"I didn't think I'd have time to make them from scratch," Piper admits. "And I'm glad I had the foresight to buy this stuff, because Polly and the other bridesmaids will be here in about an hour."

"Please tell me you at least bought festive frosting."

She holds up three tubes of red, green and white icing. "Sure did."

As the Christmas music blasts through the speaker, I help Piper shape the cookies and decorate each one with a variety of colors. I'm not known for my cookie baking skills, but my mom was a genius in making them look like pieces of art. I show Piper how to use a paring knife to shape one into a Christmas tree, and once she gets the hang of it, she carves a snowman and a wreath.

While the cookies are in the oven, Piper opens a bottle of Prosecco and regales me with stories of Christmases from childhood. I marvel at her storytelling ability and the way her eyes dance as she speaks. I could listen to her all night long.

"What are some of your family's Christmas traditions?"

The song changes to Aretha Franklin's version of _Angels we Have Heard on High_.

I join her on the sofa with a glass of Prosecco as two sheets of cookies bake. "We'd bake cookies on Christmas Eve just like you, and we'd listen to Nat King Cole Christmas albums." I smile at the memory. "At night, we'd make a small yard fire and drink hot chocolate. Sometimes we'd make S'mores, it just depended on if we had enough money to buy the ingredients."

She puts a hand on my knee. "It sounds wonderful."

I lean forward. "What if we did that?"

"Did what?"

"Recreated each of our favorite Christmas traditions?"

She raises her brows. "I don't think we can create a yard fire at the lodge."

"Why not? There's tons of wood." I set my champagne flute on the coffee table. "We're in the last cabin on the property. No one would even know."

Piper shakes her head. "I don't think it's such a good idea."

"C'mon! Live a little!" I squeeze her hand. "And we can string popcorn garland for the tree like you used to do with your family."

A smile slowly shines on her face. "That would be nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The buzzer on the oven chimes, and we both get up and start dishing cookies onto plates.

"I don't know when we'll have time to do either of those things with the wedding tomorrow," she says.

"We can make the yard fire tonight after the bridesmaids leave." I shrug. "Didn't you say Polly wants this to be a quick celebration?"

She nods.

I open another bottle of Prosecco. "I'll go to the store tonight while you're with your crew, buy popcorn and a few other things, and we'll make the garland tomorrow morning."

Piper takes both of my hands in hers. "Thank you."

"For what?" I let out a light laugh.

"For being…a breath of fresh air." She lifts her shoulders. "For being fun and having your own ideas and sharing them with me."

A knock at the door interrupts us.

"You make it easy," I say.

She squeezes my hands, and then rushes to the door to greet Polly and the three other bridesmaids. I take that as my cue to slip out.

* * *

I spend 30 minutes in the grocery store, picking up the supplies we'll need to make popcorn garland and buying a few other items for the cottage. Nothing wrong with buying a little more booze, too. Instead of heading back to the lodge, I decide to stop for a beer at the local pub. I don't want to bust in on Polly's pseudo-bachelorette party.

As I nurse a winter ale, I find myself contrasting Piper and Phoebe. It seems the only thing they have in common is their attractiveness, though Piper is far more adorable than Phoebe. Phoebe has long, brown hair that she usually wears in a bun; it's hard for her to 'de-corporatize' herself. Piper is more casual and down to earth. She's thinner and seems to be in better physical shape than Phoebe. In terms of conversation, Piper is one of the best conversationalists I've met. I feel like I've known her for years and we've picked up where we left off the last time we saw each other. Piper is inquisitive, while Phoebe doesn't seem curious to know more about, well, anything.

Still, I don't know if Piper sees this as a budding friendship or if there's something more to it. No doubt I'm attracted to her on every level, but I'm not stupid enough to ruin a shot at even friendship with the hope of something more down the road.

"Mind if I sit here?" An older man with a white beard and rosy cheeks gestures to the stool next to me.

"Go ahead."

"I smell snow in the air," he comments. "Looks like we're headed for a white-out."

I eye his outfit suspiciously. He has on thick brown pants, a white shirt and suspenders. He looks like a ruffled Santa Claus who just finished a stint at the mall and is in dire need of a drink.

"I'll have a shot of Fireball, please," he tells the bartender. "I'm Nick, by the way." He stretches his hand out to shake mine.

His name is _Nick_ —as in _St. Nick_? I roll my eyes. This must be some sort of joke. "Alex."

"You come here alone, Alex?"

"I came to the pub alone, but I'm in town for a wedding," I respond with a bit of irritation in my voice. I had no intention of 'making friends' at the bar.

"I enjoy weddings." He smiles. "They exude love and happiness and sometimes it feels contagious."

I toy with the edge of the label on my second bottle of beer. "I just went through a breakup, so…"

"Sorry to hear that." He takes a sip of Fireball.

"It's not a big deal—just a date who invited me to this thing." Despite my annoyance, I feel compelled to keep talking to him. "It's not like I was invested in the relationship."

He leans forward. "But there's a gleam in your eye. I don't usually see that in a person who has recently ended a relationship."

I pull back. "Do you go around staring into people's eyes?"

He laughs. "No, but it's hard to ignore when it's so obvious."

"Well, I did meet someone else," I admit, still not sure why I'm telling this Santa Claus wannabe about my love life. "Someone I had an immediate connection with."

"Ah, that explains it." He nods slowly. "Young love."

"I'd hardly call it love," I chuckle, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "We met yesterday."

"You don't believe in love at first sight?"

"No," I reply, and then I think about it for a moment. "I mean, I didn't believe in it before."

"Before meeting her?"

I crease my brow. "How'd you know I was talking about a woman?"

"Lucky guess." He shrugs. "There's only one way to find out."

I can't wait to hear what audacity he's going to come up with. "What's that?"

"There are three pillars of love at first sight," he begins, swiveling his stool to face me more directly. "First there's an energetic assertiveness to talk to the object of your affection. Second, the inability to hold eye contact and a feeling of bashfulness." He ticks off each one on his chubby fingers. "That leads to the third pillar: awkwardness. The person's reasoning and logic centers are impaired by the encounter, and she has difficulty being, uh… _smooth_." He chuckles at that one.

I reflect on all those things and have to admit that's how I feel when I'm with Piper.

"It's also in the eyes," he continues. "Often such infatuation results in facial changes, such as a goofy grin or an open mouth. You sometimes stop in the middle of something and just stare at the other person like a deer caught in headlights."

I swivel my stool in his direction. "You really believe all this stuff?"

"Oh, you bet I do." He finishes his drink. "And if you'd allow yourself to do the same, I think you'll find she feels the same."

I bite the inside of my lip, contemplating how I'd react if Piper returned my feelings.

"Look at the time." He stands and touches my arm and a warm, tingling sensation runs through my body. "Merry Christmas, Alex."

"Merry Christmas, Nick."

He walks out the door, and I'm left sitting there with a perplexed grin on my face.

As I'm about to follow him out, Pete and his friends walk in; they appear to be drunk.

"Don't I know you?" he hiccups. "Yeah, you're Phoebe's girlfriend. We met when you and Piper were on a walkabout this morning."

My mood changes from joyous and hopeful to cautious and sour. "Phoebe was never my girlfriend."

"Ah, good then, because what I didn't tell you earlier today was that she hooked up with Bethany last night." He looks proud of himself.

"Pete!" His friend shoves him. "That was supposed to be a secret!" The friend turns to me. "It's not like they had sex or anything—they just…kissed."

I feel my heart drop. "Who's Bethany?"

"Co-worker of ours. Also a lesbian," Pete responds, swaying to his left. "I always thought there was something between them."

"Good thing she's not my girlfriend, then," I reply, tossing some money on the bar. "And you're a lousy drunk."

He looks offended.

"Excuse me." I brush past the men and head to my car, where I sit for a good ten minutes, contemplating everything that transpired at the pub.

It never feels good to know someone cheated on you, though this time doesn't sting as bad because I wasn't invested in a relationship with Phoebe. Nevertheless, it sours my mood. I consider confronting her about the hookup, but what good would come of it? I'd probably lose my temper and make her feel like shit. Quite frankly, she _should_ feel like shit, but there's no solution to this other than her apologizing to me, and I don't need to hear those words from Phoebe—an apology won't make me feel any better.

* * *

Eventually, I go back to the cottage and peek in the window to see if the bridesmaids' party is still going on. I feel like a creeper, so I don't linger for long. When I'm fairly certain no one is inside, I open the door.

"Knock, knock," I announce, dropping the grocery bags next to the door. "Anybody here?"

"In the kitchen," Piper calls.

The moment I see her, my spirit lifts. I banish thoughts of Phoebe from my mind and concentrate on the radiant woman in front of me and the joy she brings me with a simple smile.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

"It was fun." There's that stunning smile. "They loved the cookies. Oh, and I forgot I'd bought peppermint ice cream to go with them. That's Polly's favorite flavor, especially around the holidays."

"Sounds delicious." I hold up an empty bottle of Prosecco. "I see you went through at least one bottle."

"There's still some in here." She opens the fridge. "Want a glass?"

"I think I'll stick with beer."

"Beer sounds good."

I return to the living room and haul the grocery bags into the kitchen. Piper helps me unpack and tells me about the party and how much the bridesmaids appreciated her feet rejuvenation kit. I debate whether to tell her about Phoebe's apparent hookup and ultimately decide to keep it to myself for now. Piper is in too good of a mood to ruin it, and I don't want her to feel sorry for me.

"Ready for our yard fire?"

She sticks her hands on her hips. "I don't think we should do it."

"I promise to make it safe. I'll put rocks around the edges and keep it super small."

She huffs. "If it's that important of a Christmas tradition for you…"

"It is." I smile. "Thank you."

We head outdoors, and Piper gathers sticks while I find a few rocks to contain the fire. She insists that we have Christmas music on, so she plays it on her phone. The sound quality leaves a lot to be desired, but it reminds me of listening to old, scratched records when I was a child.

"What if we get in trouble?" She blows on her hands.

I light a ball of newspaper and toss it onto the sticks. "Then we'll put it out."

"Is this thing going to generate any heat? It's freezing out here."

"Look, Negative Nellie, it's going to take a while for it to warm up." I instinctively reach for her. "Come here."

She stands in front of me and I wrap my arms around her. My head is whirling, and my body is reacting to being this close to her.

"Negative Nellie?"

"Yeah," I chuckle. "You strike me as a mostly positive person. Have faith in my fire making skills." _Hard Candy Christmas_ comes on, and I smile. "I love this song; haven't heard it yet this season."

She sways in my arms, and due to our position, I'm forced to move with her. As Dolly Parton belts out the chorus, Piper spins around so we're chest to chest, and we're _dancing_. She strings her arms around my neck, and I put mine on her hips. She sings the lyrics, and I sing and laugh along with her.

 _I'll be fine and dandy. Lord, it's like a Hard Candy Christmas._

 _I'm barely getting through tomorrow,_

 _but still I won't let sorrow bring me way down._

By the end of the song, we're swaying and twirling and singing at the top of our lungs. Piper tosses her head back and laughs at our antics, and then with our hands still clasped together, she reverts to our original position with her back to my chest. Our arms crisscross over her body, and we continue swaying to the beat of the next song.

"Hey, what's going on out here?" An angry man storms out of the darkness.

I release Piper and she quickly lowers the volume on her phone.

"We're just enjoying a Christmas bonfire and some music," she says. "Sorry, we'll keep the noise down."

"You call _that_ a bonfire?" the man asks.

"We didn't want anything bigger," I reply. "I doubt we're even supposed to have this shitty little fire on the property."

Piper gives me an _I told you so_ look.

"Honey, what's going on?" a woman calls.

Piper squints. "Fiona?"

"Piper?"

"Hi!" The two women hug. "Alex, this is Polly's friend, Fiona."

"Hi." I shake her hand, but I'm still concerned about the giant man in front of us.

"This is my husband, Victor."

He shakes our hands. "Fuck this Charlie Brown fire—I'll get some wood and we'll make this thing go off."

"Honey, I don't think you should do that."

Ignoring her, he walks into the forest and I smile.

An hour later, another six people join us at what is now a raging fire. Piper plays Christmas music again, but it's not blaring. The fire, on the other hand, could probably be seen from the roadway and the smoke from the lodge, but no one seems to care. We're laughing, drinking and telling stories about our best and worst Christmases. Eventually, I sit on the ground, leaning my back against a stone divider, and Piper sits between my legs as she shares a story about getting her first ten-speed bicycle.

I'm filled with so much bliss that my heart feels like it could split open. I've never met someone who I connected with so quickly. I love just watching her, and let's not even talk about _touching_ her. Granted, there's layers of clothing between us, but being this close to Piper warms me from the inside. I think about what Nick from the pub said, and I wonder if love at first sight really is possible, and if it is, can it last?

* * *

Just after midnight, the cops roll in with the manager of the lodge. We get a stern warning about not building fires on the property. Piper apologizes profusely to the officer and the manager, but the others are far less concerned or apologetic. We put the fire out, bid our farewells, and then head back inside.

"Did you have fun?" I ask.

"I did," she says. "Until just now."

"We're not in any kind of _real_ trouble," I offer. "You get that, right?"

She nods. "It's just as well—I should probably get some sleep."

"I wonder if Phoebe is upstairs."

Her head swivels in that direction. "If she's in the cottage and didn't come outside with all that commotion, I'd be surprised."

"Me, too." I tidy up the living room and hang my coat on the hook by the door. "I moved into the spare bedroom."

She folds a blanket, tossing it on the back of the sofa. "Really?"

"I didn't want there to be any confusion on where Phoebe and I stand," I say. "It's only fitting that we don't share a bed."

"Yeah." A tiny smile dangles on her lips.

"Well, this looks tidy enough," I say, glancing around the room. "I guess I'll head up."

Piper stretches. "Me, too."

I get to my room and whisper, "Good night."

She pauses and gives me a mischievous smile. "By the way, her name was Julia."

It takes me a few seconds to follow her train of thought, and then it hits me— _Julia_ was the last good sex she had.

I grin. "Good to know."

"Good night, Alex." Piper slips into her room with a smirk, and I'm left standing in the hallway with a wide smile plastered on my face.


	6. Chapter 6

I wake up the next morning, forgetting where I am. I glance around the room when it hits me—I'm in the cottage's third bedroom. A smile crawls across my face as I remember last night, dancing with Piper by the fire and her confession to me just before we went to bed. I'm smiling so hard that it morphs into laughter.

I get out of bed and stretch, opening the blinds to reveal heavy snow falling. Yesterday, there was hardly a dusting, but now it appears we've gotten close to a foot. I hear snow plows in the distance as I button up my green pajama top that I must've taken off in the middle of the night. I splash some warm water on my face before heading downstairs.

"Good morning," Piper greets me from the sofa. "How'd you sleep?"

"Well, thanks." I head over to the large windows in the living room. "It sure is coming down out there."

"We're under a blizzard warning." She pads into the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Please." I join her across the counter as she doctors up a cup just the way I like it. Clearly, she was paying attention yesterday. "Is everyone at the lodge who is supposed to be here for the wedding?"

"I spoke with Polly a few minutes ago, and she said all the guests are here or down the road at the other inn." She passes the mug to me. "Here you go."

I take a sip. "Thank you."

She returns to her spot on the sofa. "Did Phoebe sleep here last night?"

"I don't know, why?"

She shrugs. "I haven't seen her since early yesterday morning."

I take a sip of coffee and decide to tell her what I learned at the pub. "She cheated on me the first night we were here."

Piper's eyebrows form two perfect peaks. "What?"

"After I went to the grocery store last night, I had a couple beers at the pub down the street," I begin. "Pete walked in with his brood of brothers, clearly intoxicated, and told me that Phoebe was kissing one of their co-workers at the bar the night before."

"Wow, that's…I'm sorry."

"I'm not." I raise my shoulders. "That's not entirely true. It sucks to be on the other end of a cheating incident, but there was no hope for us anyway. This just put the last nail in the coffin."

"Have you discussed it with her?"

"No." I shake my head. "And there's a chance I won't even mention it. She knows we're through—no need to get in the last word."

She sips her coffee. "You're far more understanding than I would be."

"I'm not understanding," I correct. "What she did is disrespectful and tacky as fuck, but what's the use in rubbing it in her face, you know? It won't change anything."

She smiles. "I admire your restraint."

"Thanks." I look outside again, and the snow is still coming down in droves. "What are you up to today?"

"I have to meet Polly in her suite at three. The ceremony is at five."

"You're not having lunch with her and the other bridesmaids?"

She shakes her head. "Polly's having a late brunch with her family."

"Well then, would you like to have lunch with me?"

She grins. "I'd love to."

"But first, we have some popcorn garland to make." I stand and reach for her hand. "I hope the microwave stuff is sufficient."

She takes my hand and we walk to the kitchen. "It'll be perfect."

It isn't until I release her hand when I realize what I just did. Holding Piper's hand felt like the most natural thing in the world—like we've been in a relationship for months or even years and that's just what couple's do. I wonder if she feels the same.

I place one of the Orville Redenbacher bags in the microwave. "What was the book you were reading when I came downstairs?"

"Oh, just some holiday novel I pulled off the shelf." She stretches a piece of thread on the counter. "I think it's called _An Island Christmas_."

"By Nancy Thayer," I state. "I read it over Thanksgiving weekend."

She smiles. "Do you read a lot?"

"Tons." I hand her a needle. "Mostly stuff from _The New York Times_ Book Review."

"Same." She threads it. "I just read _The Female Persuasion_ by Meg Wolitzer."

My eyes widen. "I'm obsessed with her. I've read her other nine or ten novels, but I haven't gotten to that one yet. What's it about again?"

"It's about the challenge of intergenerational feminism."

"Oh, right." I remove the popcorn from the microwave and give the bag a few shakes. "Didn't Lena Dunham write the book review in _The Times_?"

"I think she did."

"Was the book as good as her others?"

Piper nods. "It's a little more politically charged than I like when I'm reading fiction, but if you can pull yourself away from today's political climate, it's a solid read."

I open the bag, and steam wafts in the air. "I love the smell of popcorn."

"It drives me crazy at work when someone pops a bag and I can't have any." She snags a couple of kernels. "I end up making it at home that night."

The door swings open, and both of our eyes are drawn to a completely disheveled Phoebe. She takes one look at us, and then heads upstairs. Piper glances at me as if to check what my reaction will be, and I snort. That causes her to laugh, and she places a hand on my forearm as we both double over.

"Is it just me or did it look like she got hit by a bus?" Piper asks.

"It's not just you." I recover from my laughter. "Maybe I should go check on her."

"Seriously?"

"She looked pretty fucking bad," I reply. "Never mind. She doesn't deserve my sympathy."

"That's the Christmas spirit," she quips.

I get a good chuckle out of that. "Ok, show me how this is done."

"First, we need louder music." She turns the volume up on Bing Crosby. "Ok, you hold the string like this, and slip the popcorn on."

"Got it."

We string a good six feet before running out of kernels.

"Should we make another?" I ask.

"What do you think?"

"I think we should."

My phone buzzes, and I release my end of the garland. "That has to be my mom." I smile when I see the number. "Hi, mom."

"Happy Christmas Eve, hon! How's it going in frigid New Hampshire?"

"Great, actually." I glance at Piper. "How's Florida?"

"It's magnificent. We had the air conditioner on in the condo!" She fiddles with the phone. "Wait, let me put you on speaker. I just got a manicure and don't want to fuck it up."

"Mom, that's the wrong button." Her face appears on the screen. "You hit the FaceTime button."

"Oh, look at you!" She waves. "Where are you staying? That room looks gorgeous."

I chuckle. "We're staying in one of the cottages at Plymouth Lodge."

"Is that Phoebe?" she asks. "I thought you told me she was a brunette?"

Hmm, how do I proceed? "Uh, no, that's Piper."

Piper waves and returns to the living room. "Hi, Mrs. Vause."

"Hi, there. Call me Diane, sweetie…What happened to Phoebe?"

I move the phone back to my face. "Long story, but we broke up."

My mom looks confused. "So you went to the wedding with someone else? I thought Phoebe was the one with the connection to the bride or groom?"

"We broke up yesterday, and Piper is the maid of honor," I explain.

She looks confused—like she's not sure exactly what to say or ask. "Are you ok? I mean after the breakup?"

"Yeah, I am." I put the phone at an angle to try to get Piper, who is sitting next to me with her elbow bent in a V over my shoulder, in the frame.

"We did some of your old Christmas traditions," Piper adds. "Alex made old fashioned hot chocolate, we baked cookies and had a yard fire last night."

She gives us a wide smile. "That sounds lovely."

"Now, we're listening to Christmas music and stringing popcorn garland," I say. "It's snowing pretty hard here. From what I can see it's sunny in Ft. Lauderdale."

"Sunny and 83 degrees." She adjusts the phone to show me the beach. "I wish you were here, hon, but it looks like you're in good hands."

"I am." I grin.

"She's cute," Diane whispers.

"Mom!" I quickly get to my feet. "I'll give you a call tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good. Nice to meet you, Piper!" She waves.

"You, too, Diane."

I hang up. "Sorry about that."

"About what?"

I slice my hand through the air like I want her to drop it.

She stands directly in front of me, and I can smell popcorn on her breath. "What are you sorry about?"

"I don't know." I look away. "My mom saying you were cute; possibly thinking we're a couple."

She tilts her head and grins. "You don't think I'm cute?"

"No, I…" I lower my head, then look back up at her with shy smile. "I mean yes, I think you're cute. You're cute and fun and sincere and intelligent..." I pause, letting out a short breath. "And I enjoy spending time with you—maybe too much."

She tangles our fingers together. "There's no such thing as too much, remember?"

"I do." I glance at our joined hands.

She squeezes it before letting go. "Now are we going to finish the popcorn garland or what?"

We spend the morning and into the early afternoon stringing another three strands of popcorn, talking about our careers, our childhood and more Christmas memories. Piper heats the mini-egg rolls she'd been saving, and I make a salad, and we share both. She's right—the egg rolls are a guilty treat.

The more time we spend together, the more I crave being with her. If I had to guess, she's enjoying her time with me equally, but she just got out of a long-term relationship. I know I shouldn't allow my thoughts to drift into the romantic category of where our relationship might go, but I can't help it. She's the kind of person who I want to be with…permanently. If I told anyone about our budding friendship, they'd probably think I was crazy. After all, it's only been _two days_ of knowing each other.

After lunch, we hang the garland on the tree and as luck would have it, we made the perfect amount.

"Before we check out of the lodge, we'll hang the popcorn outside for the birds to eat."

I put my hands on my hips and stare proudly at our handiwork. "I like that—we're not wasting food."

"If you call popcorn food," she giggles. "It'll be stale by then, but the birds don't care."

It's my turn to chuckle. "You had a conversation with the birds just to make sure they don't mind stale popcorn?"

"I'm a bird whisperer," she says through a smile.

"The tree feels complete now," I say.

"Sure does." She tugs the blanket off the back of the sofa and sits. "It seems like the perfect day for a long winter's nap."

I'm not sure if she's silently asking me to go away so she can sleep or inviting me to join her, so I stick with something benign. "It does."

She fluffs one of the throw pillows. "You can put your head on that side, and I'll put mine over here."

I try stifling a goofy smile, but I doubt I'm successful. "Fair warning, I have very long legs."

"I've noticed." She lies down, curling her body and pulling the blanket over her lower half. "They'll keep me warm."

I mirror her position from the other side, taking half the blanket. As soon as I'm horizontal, Piper tangles her legs with mine. I exhale a long, content breath and close my eyes. I drift off to sleep, thinking we fit together like the last two pieces of a puzzle.

* * *

After an hour-long nap, Piper showers, dresses in sweats, and pads downstairs with a garment bag draped over her shoulder. "I'm off."

I look up from a book. "Looks like this is my kind of wedding-sweat pants and sneakers."

She chuckles. "All of the bridesmaids are getting our hair and makeup done in Polly's room. I won't put on my dress until we're done."

"Have fun." I smile. "I'll see you at the wedding at five."

"See you then."


	7. Chapter 7

As I'm about to leave the cottage at quarter to five, Piper busts through the door, all decked out in her plum-colored bridesmaid's dress, dangling silver earrings and hair pulled back into a fashionable twist.

"You have to help us!"

"What the hell?" I'm shocked to see her. "Why aren't you at the lodge with Polly?"

"The blizzard shut down I-93," she says, a bit out of breath as if she ran here. "The minister finally showed up, but the photographer is stuck in Tilton!"

"Tilton?" I fasten my earing. "Isn't that like an hour away?"

"Yes!"

I can't take my eyes off her lips—until this moment, she's worn Chapstick at best, but now they're a pale, glossy pink and perfectly kissable.

"iPhones are great for taking pictures." I shrug. "Make an announcement at the beginning of the ceremony, asking people to snap some photos and Polly can choose the ones she wants to get blown up or keep for her wedding album."

" _Alex_." She grabs my arm and tightens her jaw. "Polly is freaking the fuck out. She is not going to be satisfied with pictures from phones," she says with what I assume is forced calmness. "Please, _please_ help me."

"I don't even _know_ Polly!" I look to the sky and shake my head, pausing as I reflect on Piper's plea to help _her._ "Alright, fine. I'll do it…for you."

She smiles, cranes her neck and kisses me on the side of the mouth. "Thank you!"

We both freeze, blinking at each other, and I take the plunge. I put my hand on the back of her neck, pull her impossibly close and kiss the living fuck out of her. There's no time for tongues or finesse—it's just a long, firm _more than friends_ kiss.

Piper pulls back, and I wonder if I look as stunned as she does. I can't read her expression—was that a welcome kiss or did I force it?

"That was…" I trail off.

A slow smile starts to creep on her face. "Yeah."

"You look beautiful, by the way," I add.

"So do you." Her face splits into a full smile and her shoulders relax. "Thank you, Alex. I can't tell you how much this means to me."

I smirk. "I think you just did."

"I'll see you in the lodge as soon as possible." She turns to walk out of the front door that's still ajar, and then twists her neck to look back at me. "Oh and save a dance for me."

I beam at the prospect of dancing with her. "I'll grab my camera bag and be right there."

I quickly put on my heels, glad that I brought the two-inch ones since now I'm the wedding photographer. I make sure I have all the proper lenses and that the camera battery is fully charged. As I walk to the lodge, I can't wipe the silly grin off my face. _She likes me_.

* * *

I arrive at the grand ballroom ten minutes later, and everyone is aflutter. I spot Piper in the crowd, and as hard as it is to take my eyes off her, I know I need to do a job.

"Someone called for a second string photographer?"

Polly hugs me. "I have no fucking idea who you are other than Piper's possible new love interest—"

"Polly!" She slaps her arm, clearly mortified.

Ignoring her friend, Polly continues. "But thank you so much for saving our asses."

I really do feel for the woman on one of the most important days of her life.

"I know I was a dick in the pub last night," Pete says with a bowed head. "But thank you for your willingness to help."

I smile. "Weddings aren't my favorite occasion to work, but it seems like you're in a bind, so..."

Piper mouths _thank you_ to me, and again, I'm drawn to her glossy lips.

"Alright, if I could have the bride and groom stand over here." I look up to check the lighting in the room. It's pathetic, but it'll have to do for now. "Let's move just a bit to the right. Perfect. One, two, three." I take a few pictures of just the two of them from different angles and then a few of the bridal party. We're only 15 minutes behind schedule, which isn't bad considering the fiasco with the other photographer. "That's good for now. We'll take plenty more after the ceremony."

"You're a life saver." Polly squeezes my arm.

As I move around the room, shooting the wedding from a variety of angles, I'm once again struck by Piper's natural beauty. Her smile could light up a football stadium. I also love how expressive she is. As the minister does a reading, Piper's face lights up every time she hears something that resonates with her. She catches my eye right after they exchange vows, and I realize I'm motionless as I stare at her. I hastily recover, snapping pictures of the couple's first kiss.

The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and I spend another 20 minutes taking posed photographs in front of the Christmas tree in the lobby and a couple of other cool spots around the lodge before letting them enjoy the reception. Of course, I get several pictures of their first dance as well as dances with their parents. I'm hoping I'll be able to edit a few of the shots due to the shitty lighting, but all in all, they are coming out well.

I'm hard at work for the first half of the reception, and I only spot Piper a few times when she's in the bridal party mix. She catches my eyes a couple times with a bashful smile and all I want to do is throw my camera aside and dance with her. Nevertheless, I continue taking pictures and allow her to enjoy the festivities with her best friend.

"That was nice of you to step in."

I look to my left, and Phoebe is standing there with a glass of sparkling wine.

"Glad I was here to help."

She touches my wrist. "I'm sorry about everything."

"Thanks." I take a few more pictures of couples dancing.

"Could we maybe…I don't know…try again?"

"Are you serious?" I look at her like she's grown another head. "No fucking way," I reply through a half-laugh.

Piper cuts in, snaking her arm through mine. "Mind if I have this dance?"

"I don't mind at all." I set my camera on a chair at the edge of the room and allow Piper to drag me to the dance floor as Sam Smith's version of _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ plays. A smile touches my lips as I recall listening to this song with her making it that much more special.

"If we ever get to a point of having _our song_ ," she begins. "I want this to be it."

The thought of it being _our song_ sends shivers throughout my body in the best way. "Seems appropriate."

Piper holds my left hand in her right and switches gears. "Was she bothering you?"

I lower my other hand to the dip in her back. "She asked if we could try again."

She looks anxious. "What did you tell her?"

"I basically told her to fuck off," I chuckle.

Piper puts her head on my chest. "Good."

I tug her closer, laying my cheek on top of her head as we sway to the music.

As far as I'm concerned, there's no one else in the room—it's just me and Piper, filling the space with unexpected, _downright impossible_ love. My head is spinning and my heart is so full it feels like I'm drunk. She rests our hands on my chest, covering mine fully and rubbing the back of it with her thumb. It's confirmed—I've never felt a connection with anyone like I feel with her.

The song ends, and we move apart, but she doesn't release my hand.

"Maybe I'm not such a jerk after all."

I turn to see Pete standing next to us with his hands in his pockets.

"I mean, if what I told you had anything to do with you getting closer to Piper, I'm glad for what I said."

"It didn't, but I'll accept your semi-apology." I grin.

"You two really just met?" he asks.

We nod.

"Stunning." His face is all sincerity.

"Alex, I can't thank you enough." Polly approaches. "We're fortunate that you were here. Please, enjoy yourself—you don't have to take pictures the whole night."

I squeeze Piper's hand and she smiles up at me. "I'm very much enjoying myself."

"Something tells me this won't be the last we see of you," Polly comments.

"I hope not."

"C'mon." Piper tugs me towards the opposite side of the room. "Let's get a drink."

I split my time between taking official wedding photos and spending time with Piper, though I enjoy the latter much more than the former.

"Hey, Alex." Victor, the guy from the yard fire approaches me. "We're going legit tonight—apparently there's a huge firepit behind the lodge. Come out after the reception."

"Isn't there a blizzard?"

"Snow stopped about an hour ago." He pats me on the back. "Still, dress warmly."

After one more hour of toasts and dances, Pete and Polly announce they're retiring to the honeymoon suite. The lights come back on, and I make sure I have all of my gear. I watch Piper bid her farewell to the newlyweds and make my way over there.

"I'm so happy for her," Piper announces before turning to me. "And I'm so thankful to you."

"It was no big deal." I hoist my glasses to the top of my head. "Though I _am_ ready to get into more comfortable clothes."

"You look beautiful," she says. "I've been thinking that all night."

"Thank you." I feel my cheeks starting to flush. "I might've mentioned it earlier, but it bears repeating: you look beautiful, too."

She leans up, kissing me on the cheek before taking my hand and walking away from the lodge.

* * *

As we enter the cottage, I wonder if now is the moment we'll kiss more intimately. I take a deep breath and prepare to make it happen, but Piper disappears upstairs. Surely I wasn't misreading her cues at the wedding. Maybe she had to use the bathroom? I follow her upstairs and change into comfortable clothes and wait for her in the living room.

"Ready?" She comes downstairs clad in her thickest outerwear. Clearly there will be no making out prior to going to the firepit.

I pull on my wool hat. "Yeah."

She takes my hand as we leave the cottage and head to the firepit where a crowd of wedding goers have already gathered, most of them still in their formal wear and thick coats. Victor was right: it's legit. There's a wide circle of paved red bricks about two feet high and the center is already glowing and hot.

"I guess this would've been easier than what we did yesterday," I comment to Victor.

He laughs. "And we wouldn't have gotten reprimanded."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

Piper finishes her hellos to people she just saw 20 minutes ago, and then holds her hands up to the fire. "Is there bar service out here?"

"Sure is." Fiona raises her glass. "The server should be out with another round of drinks in a minute."

"How did everyone enjoy the wedding?" one of the bridesmaids asks.

"I thought it went off without a hitch," Fiona replies. "Polly looked beautiful."

 _I'll be Home for Christmas_ blasts over the speakers, and Piper steps back from the fire and closer to me.

"It could've been a disaster," a groomsman chimes in. "They were lucky the minister lives in the adjacent town and could make it to the lodge without any issues."

"Can I take your order?" the server interrupts.

I look to Piper, signaling she should order first. "I'm in the mood for a martini."

"Make that two," I reply.

"Hey, here's to Alex for stepping in as the photographer," Victor announces with a raised longneck.

"Cheers," the crowd toasts and a few people clap and whistle.

Piper strings an arm around my waist, and I toss mine over her shoulders. I'll take casual Piper over dressy Piper any day. She looks stunning when she's all dressed up, but this version of her is _cozy_ —I love cozy.

"Happy to help," I respond.

A few minutes go by and the waiter appears with our two martinis. I clink my glass against hers. "Happy Christmas Eve."

"Has anyone ever hooked up at a wedding?" One of the bridesmaids asks.

"Does _about to_ hook up count?" Piper asks.

That earns her a few chuckles and impressive stares, and I'm speechless in the best way. After our unexpected kiss in the cottage just before the ceremony and our dance at the reception, I figured there'd be more intimacy to come, but to hear Piper confirm it makes me absolutely giddy. I erase the doubt that creeped into my mind 20 minutes ago.

"I have." Fiona raises her hand. "It was the first wedding I attended right out of college, and the cousin of the groom kept buying me shots of Jägermeister."

A few people groan. "Nothing good ever comes from shots of Jäger."

"I should've known better," Fiona responds. "We danced the night away, and when the reception was over, he invited me to his room that had a hot tub on the balcony."

The men make sounds like they've heard that line before.

Piper's eyes widen. "Don't tell me you _did it_ in the hot tub?"

Fiona shades her eyes. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but we did."

Again, the crowd oohs and ahhs.

Victor clears his throat. "That man happens to be me."

"No way, man!" A groomsman pats him hard on the back. "And you're still together?"

"Married for seven years," Victor proudly replies, leaning over and kissing his bride.

Everyone laughs, and I take in the scene around me. People are mostly coupled up, drinking, laughing and warming up by the fire. It's like a scene right out of a movie with the upbeat music playing while friends enjoy each other's company. The company I most enjoy, of course, is snuggled up to my side. I place a kiss on the top of her head, noticing that her hair still smells like mint. Her eyes glisten in the firelight, and I swear there's desire in them.

After holding each other's gaze for a few seconds, I return my attention to the roaring fire. "Julia, huh?" I ask softly enough for only her to hear.

"Julia Smythe." I feel her chuckle against my side. "That was a long time ago."

I try concealing a grin, but it's pretty much useless. "I know what you're thinking."

"You do?" I feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine trained on the fire.

"You're wondering if I could possibly be as good as Julia." It must be the amount of alcohol I've drank tonight—I'm usually not this bold.

"That's not what I'm thinking."

I turn my eyes sharply back to her. "No?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm 99 percent confident you'll be _better_ than Julia."

I swallow hard at her word choice— _sex is going to happen_ —but I don't want to tip my hat just yet. "Only 99 percent?"

"Nothing's a sure thing."

"I promise you." I lift her chin with two fingers to ensure we're eye to eye. " _This_ is a sure thing."

She shrugs. "Only one way to find out."

I can't take it anymore. "We're going to call it a night, guys."

Piper links our hands, and even though we're wearing gloves, I can feel her warmth.

We don't say much on our way back, but the moment we walk in, I call for Phoebe. She doesn't answer, so I walk to the base of the stairs and call a little louder. "Phoebe?" Meanwhile, Piper has tossed her hat, coat and gloves aside. I listen to see if there's water running in the shower of if I hear her stir in the room. When I'm satisfied she's not here, I take four long strides back over to Piper, who wastes no time kissing me so hard that my back slams against the door.

The feeling of her tongue slipping into my mouth is euphoric.

"Polly warned me about rebound sex," she says between kisses.

I take off my coat, letting it fall to the floor. "You talked to Polly about us?"

We still don't break the kiss.

"I told her if that's what this is for you, _rebound sex_ , I'm ok with it," she says, mouth hardly leaving mine. "But that's not what it is for me."

I dig through two layers of shirts to _finally_ touch her bare skin. "What is it for you?"

Piper pulls away, hands cupping my face. "It's a connection." She soothes my cheeks with her thumbs. "One that I've never felt before."

I search her eyes for any doubt, and when I detect none, it's my turn to ravage her. We switch positions, and now her back is to the door. She unbuttons my jeans, and I take off her shirt. In no time, we're mostly naked, reaching for every inch of skin we can find.

"For the record, this isn't rebound sex," I offer as my mouth moves between her breasts. "I want this for all the right reasons."

We continue our makeout session until flopping so hard on the sofa that we both stop kissing just to laugh. Our laughter is short lived as she snakes a hand to my center and my whole body tingles with pleasure.

Thirty minutes later, we're spent and naked on the sofa, using the red plaid blanket to cover us. One Jim Brickman Christmas song or another rings softly through the speakers as I rub Piper's arm, basking in the afterglow of spectacular sex.

"Everything that happened before this moment felt like we were in a Hallmark Christmas movie," she says from her position halfway on top of me.

"If Hallmark made lesbian movies," I add.

I feel her laugh against my chest. "X-rated lesbian movies."

It's my turn to chuckle.

"I'm ok with that." She rolls onto her side and kisses me again.

I finally ask the question I'm dying to know the answer to. "So, was it better than sex with Julia?"

"Sex with Julia was good." She punctuates it with a kiss. "Sex with you is remarkable."

"I didn't want to brag," I say through a smirk.

She playfully slaps me, and then reaches her hand between my legs, effectively replacing my smirk with a look of pure desire.

* * *

At some point, we must've decided to go to sleep in Piper's room, because I wake up at half past six in the morning, and for the third night in a row, I'm in a different room.

"Are you awake?" she asks.

I roll over. "Mmmm."

"Merry Christmas, Alex."

My eyes flutter open. "Merry Christmas, Piper."

We fool around for another hour in bed and eventually go downstairs to enjoy the decked out cottage for the last morning of our stay at Plymouth Lodge. I brew coffee while Piper searches for something to eat for breakfast.

"I'm starving," she announces with the refrigerator door wide open.

I smirk. "Wonder why?"

"Sex will do that to a person," she replies unnecessarily. "Looks like we're out of breakfast food."

I put my hands on her hips and peek over her shoulder. "Mini-egg rolls?"

"I guess they'll have to do for now." She pulls the Ziploc bag out and frowns. "There are only two left."

"We'll make do." Then it hits me: I bought ingredients to make something special for her. "Mind if I call my mom?"

"Sure." She kisses me on the way to the living room. I could get used to this.

"Merry Christmas, hon!"

I smile into the phone. "Merry Christmas, mom."

"How was the wedding?"

"It was great." I spare her the details of my role in the wedding. "How are you?"

"I'm peachy keen. We're going out for Christmas brunch in a few," she pauses. "How are you getting along with everyone?"

I know what she's hinting at. "Her name is Piper." I grin. "Get used to asking about her."

"Oh, _really_?"

I step into the breakfast nook out of Piper's earshot. "She's special, mom. _Really_ special."

"I'm over the moon for you, Al."

"There's another reason I'm calling…"

There's one more tradition I want to share with Piper, so while she waits in the living room, I jot down my mom's instructions, and then pull out the special ingredients.

I stare down at the items. "I've never made these on my own, so I hope they turn out alright."

"Made what?"

"Homemade cinnamon rolls," I reply. "My mom makes them every Christmas morning. I didn't have the ingredients until I went to the store last night."

"Judging from all the stuff you have, it looks like they'll be delicious."

"Wanna help make the orange frosting?"

"I'd love to." She comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Show me what to do."

I turn in her arms, resting my butt against the kitchen island and stringing my arms over her shoulders. "It starts like this…" I kiss a trail from her temple to her chin. "With a little of this…" I nip at her lips until we're in a full kiss.

Piper sticks her fingertips in the waistband of my pajama pants where my back meets my butt. "I love this part of your body."

"My pocket?" I ask between kisses.

She pulls back. "Pocket?"

"I've always called it that—where the back curves into an ass." I return to the kissing. "I like that part of a woman's body."

"Would any woman do?"

I chuckle against her lips. "Definitely not." I turn us around, hoisting Piper onto the island and unbuttoning her pajama top. When her breasts are exposed, I dip my head down and suck on one nipple while gently tweaking the other with my fingers.

Her head rolls back as she moans.

Just as I'm about to slip my hand into her underwear, Piper's phone rings.

"Ugh!" She reaches as far behind her as she can to grab her phone, revealing her stomach muscles. "It's Polly. I have to get this."

While she's still stretched out, I run my fingertips down the slight ripples and get even more turned on.

"Hi, Pol," she answers. "Happy day one of marriage!" Piper sits up, trailing a hand through my hair and massaging the back of my scalp. She pulls the phone away from her mouth. "She wants to know if there's a convenient time this morning for her to look at some of the pictures you took."

My mind was so far away from thinking about the wedding that it takes a moment for it to register. "Yeah. I'll upload them while the cinnamon rolls are in the oven."

"She'll e-mail them to you this morning." She listens to Polly talk for a minute more. "Can you give me an hour?" She listens again. "Ok, bye."

I smile. "Let me guess: Polly wants to talk about her magical wedding day with you?"

She nods. "I'll meet her in the lodge after breakfast…Is that ok?"

"You're her maid of honor," I say. "Of course it's ok."

She grabs my hand, pulling me closer until I'm standing between her legs. "I just don't want to shortcut this."

I kiss her. "We have plenty of time for _this_."

"Check-out is at noon." She pouts, toying with a button on my pajamas.

"We both live in Manhattan." I smile. "Who's to say we can't get together later today and even tomorrow?"

"And the next day?" She kisses me. "And the next?" Another kiss.

"And the next," I say through a soft laugh.

"That makes me feel better." She hops off the counter. "Now are you going to show me how to make these cinnamon rolls or what?"

I walk her through the process of making the orange frosting while I manage to roll the dough and cover it with cinnamon, sugar and pecans. As usual, Piper doesn't seem to be able to do any task without Christmas music, so she turns it on before stirring the frosting. As we put the final touches on the rolls, we talk about the highlights of the wedding, and then sit on the sofa as I upload the photos.

"You did an amazing job, Alex," she says when we scroll to the last one. "Polly is going to be thrilled."

I hit the 'send' button. "I hope so."

The cinnamon rolls are almost as good as my mom's, and because we're starving, we each eat three. Piper gushes over how delicious they are, telling me she'd like to meet my mom someday.

"Someday soon?" I ask.

"Yeah, sure." She juts her head back, seeming a bit unsure. "I mean, meeting the parents of someone you're involved with is a big deal, so whenever you're ready—no rush."

"Whenever _I'm_ ready?" I chuckle. "I was ready the first day we met."

"A whopping three days ago?" she laughs.

I link our fingers together and pull her back to the sofa. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

She seems taken aback by the question. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"It seems impossible, right?" I squeeze her hand and look into her eyes. "What I feel for you is so strong and real—it's like nothing I've ever experienced."

"I know," she whispers, leaning over to kiss me. "I have a feeling this will be the first of many Christmases together."

"I hope so."

* * *

Author's note: Thank you all for the reviews! This has been a fun story to write on so many levels. Part of the joy for me was the sweetness and innocence Piper and Alex shared in this story. So many of my other stories are filled with angst, drama and the like, so it was nice to write them as a quasi-Hallmark couple with a ton more chemistry (and of course, sex). There will be one more very short epilogue that I'll most likely post on Friday as I tweak it a bit more and decide if that's how I want to wrap this baby up. Thanks again!


	8. Epilogue

"What did I just tell you about running? And I expect to get our full pet deposit back!" Piper yells as she hauls three bags into the cottage. "Don't let him off the leash until he settles down."

"Oh, mom…" I can't see Ethan, but I'm sure he's rolling his eyes—a trait he no doubt picked up from me.

"Don't _oh, mom_ me."

"When can we make a yard fire?"

Piper glares at me. "Did you tell him about the yard fire?"

"He asked." I shrug. "It was a fabulous yard fire."

"Do you remember the results of your 'fabulous' yard fire?" Piper sets the bags on the kitchen counter.

"I wanna hear the results," our son comments as he tugs the dog away from the Christmas tree.

Ignoring him, Piper replies, "We can go to the lodge and warm up by the big firepit."

"That one isn't as special," I complain, putting the dry goods in the cupboards.

"It was the last moment we weren't a couple—I think that's very special."

I make sure Ethan is out of earshot. "You define our coupledom by the first time we had sex?"

She puts the cold food in the refrigerator. "Yeah, don't you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it." I pause. "What I _do_ know is that our yard fire was the bomb even before Victor showed up."

Piper huffs, and I lean over and kiss her.

"Can I go back to the lodge to watch the train?"

The newest addition to the Christmas decorations at Plymouth Lodge is a mini-train set that roams around the Christmas tree and through a miniature Christmas village. The locomotive engine toots every minute or so and actually blows steam. Kids can place items into the flatcars as they pass. Apparently, it has been a wildly successful addition for children to enjoy while their parents drink cocktails in the lobby bar.

"You can watch the train for a few minutes, and then we'll go to the firepit," Piper replies.

I look around the cottage, smiling with nostalgia. "Here we are again."

"Here we are." Her smile matches mine. "So many good memories."

I wrap my arms around her. "So many."

"I love you." She kisses me.

I put one hand on her cheek and deepen the kiss.

Ethan appears with our rambunctious rescue dog. "Are you making out again?"

"Where did you learn that phrase?" Piper asks.

He rolls his eyes again. "Everyone knows what _making out_ means, mom."

"For your information, we'll make out whenever we want to." She touches his nose. "It's a sign of our love and affection."

"Why don't you and I finish unloading the car, and then we can make hot chocolate?" I hand the dog leash to Piper and take our son's hand. "You ok watching Hank?" (Ethan picked out the dog's name.)

She nods.

When we get outside, I say, "I'm proud of you for keeping our secret."

He stops running and twists around. "When can we tell her?"

I smile. "Tonight."

Adoption wasn't our first choice, but when neither of us could get pregnant, it was our _only_ choice and we didn't want to wait for the third and final try at in vitro fertilization, which we'd put on hold for several years. I can't imagine having it any other way now that Ethan has been in our lives for the past five years. With his fair skin, blonde hair and blue eyes, people mistake him for Piper's biological son all the time.

"After we come back from the firepit?" he asks.

I hand him a light bag. "Yes, after that."

Ethan takes the bag and runs back to the cottage, leaving me to haul the last three.

"Ready for some old fashioned hot chocolate?" Piper asks when we both arrive back inside.

He nods. "Can I stir?"

I lift him to sit on the countertop. "Sure can."

The dog has finally settled down and is lying in front of the fireplace.

"I'll take our bags upstairs," Piper announces. "And then I'll open the marshmallows for you to put in each cup."

A smile tugs at my lips as I hear Christmas music coming from the living room. Piper has never been able to resist playing festive music over the holidays. I reflect on our first trip to the lodge and how that chance meeting changed both of our lives for the better. Our relationship began in this very room and hasn't slowed down or diminished since then. I asked her to marry me the following Christmas in this very cottage, and the following Christmas, we were married at the lodge in a small ceremony. Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for Piper and the gift of her love.

Piper enters the kitchen, dragging her hand across my back and peeking into the pot. "Is it hot enough yet?"

"Almost," I reply. "Ethan is doing a great job stirring it."

She opens the bag of marshmallows, and he abandons the spoon in favor of the little white sponges. "Can I eat some?"

"Only a few," she says. "Save the rest for your hot chocolate." She retrieves three mugs from the cupboard, placing them on the counter.

"I think it's ready." I turn off the stove and pour a few ounces in each cup.

Ethan digs in the bag, pulling out a handful of marshmallows to add to the tops of each drink.

"Blow on it before taking a sip," I instruct, showing him what I mean.

"Mmm, it's delicious!"

Piper helps him off the counter.

"Can we go to the firepit now?"

"Yes, but you need to bundle up again," she replies.

His face scrunches up. "How am I going to hold my hot chocolate with gloves on?"

"Hold it in both hands like this. When we get to the firepit, you can take off your gloves next to the fire so they'll be nice and warm." I put a wool hat on his head. "Are we taking the dog or leaving him here?"

"I'm going to put him in one of the rooms upstairs so he doesn't get into the Christmas tree," she replies. "That means we can't stay out for long."

"Ok." Ethan kisses the dog's snout. "Be a good boy." He looks up at me. "Will you hold my hot chocolate?"

I was afraid of this; nevertheless, I take the mug from him.

Hand in hand, Piper and I follow our son as he runs to the lodge. I wish I had half as much energy as he does. This is our second time to the Plymouth Lodge with Ethan—the first three years, he stayed back with my mom and we only came to New Hampshire for two nights so that we could be with him on Christmas morning.

"I'd like to say hi to Burt if he's here," Piper says, swinging our hands.

"Didn't you tell me he was promoted to associate manager?"

Piper nods. "And when Mr. Klein retires, he'll probably be the general manager."

"Good for him." Burt has welcomed us to the lodge every year, making sure we always get to stay in Cottage 2. He was also in charge of the logistics of our wedding, which went spectacularly well.

A rush of nostalgia washes over me as I step inside the lobby (Piper and Ethan went inside to check us in when we first arrived while I took Hank out to pee). "It never ceases to amaze me how walking into this place evokes such strong memories."

"I know." Piper sniffs the air. "It even smells the same."

I take in a deep breath and squeeze her hand.

"Alex, Piper, so nice to see you on, what is this, your ninth anniversary?" Burt greets us.

"Ninth anniversary of staying at the lodge, but seventh wedding anniversary."

He hugs each of us. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

"So do I," I reply, beaming down at my wife.

Burt leans over. "Hi there, Ethan. You've grown a ton since last year."

"Yeah. I can even ride some of the big kid's rides at the carnival." Ethan smiles and then looks back at us. "Can I go watch the train, now?"

We nod.

Burt stands fully. "Would you like to do some Christmas caroling later?"

He scratches his head. "I'd like to, but I don't know all the songs."

"Sing what you know. If you can read, we'll have the words to follow along."

"I can read, just not big words."

Piper and I smile—we've been working on his reading skills.

"Then I suppose I'll see you later."

"Ok." He runs to the train, where at least five or six children around his age are already gathered.

"Care for a festive cocktail?" Burt asks.

"I'd love one," Piper responds.

"My stomach is a little unsettled." I put a hand on my belly. "I better not."

When Burt walks away, Piper turns to me. "You're not feeling well?"

"I'm sure it's nothing—just a little upset stomach." I take her hand and proceed to one of the leather sofas where we can keep an eye on Ethan. "I have a feeling he's going to put a trainset on his Christmas list after this experience."

She laughs. "It's too late—Santa has already done all her shopping this year."

I sling an arm around Piper's shoulders. "Did you sign him up for the children's Christmas party tomorrow morning?"

"I did." She places a hand on my thigh. "What ever will we do with our free time?"

I kiss the tip of her nose. "I can think of a few things."

Piper and I have had a healthy sex life, but when Ethan came into our lives, we went from having sex four or five times a week to just one or two. In fact, it's been about a week since we've made love and I'm hoping that dry spell ends tomorrow while our son is making paper snowflakes at the kid's party.

Burt returns to the lobby. "A festive cocktail for you, and a ginger ale for your upset tummy."

"Thank you," we say in unison.

"You're very welcome." He smiles. "I hope this year's stay is as wonderful as in years past."

"I'm sure it will be," I reply with a grin.

"Should we head out to the firepit?" Piper asks.

"Sure." I stand and take her hand. "You want to pull him away from the train?"

"I'll be the bad guy," I reply, walking over to the Christmas tree. "Ethan, let's go warm up by the firepit."

"Now?" he whines.

"Now. You can come back and watch the train later."

We lead him to the firepit, where two families have already gathered. There's a boy who looks to be a pre-teen and a girl who is probably Ethan's age. He wastes no time introducing himself, forgetting all about the fun he was having with the train.

"We're going to make S'mores," the girl says. "Want some?"

Ethan looks back at us. Piper nods.

"This is such a special place," she whispers as she tucks her shoulder under my arm.

"It is." I kiss the side of her head. "I hope we can continue coming back every year."

"Me, too."

We spend about an hour by the firepit, getting to know the two other couples as Ethan plays with their kids. By the time the sun is about to set, the temperature drops significantly, and we make our way back to the cottage, promising him we'll return to the lodge to sing Christmas carols after dinner.

We eat a simple but delicious meal at the cottage, and after cleaning up, Ethan gives me an expectant look.

"Now?" he whispers.

"Ok." I ruffle his hair. "Hey, babe, can you join us in the living room?"

She dries her hands with a dishrag. "Please don't tell me this is about the yard fire again."

I pat the cushion next to me. "Sit down."

Her eyes roam from Ethan's to mine. "I don't like the look on your faces."

Ethan buries his face in his hands and giggles; we can still see his dimples.

"I have something to tell you—something good." I take her hands in mine and inhale a deep breath through my nose and out through my mouth. "I went to the doctor's office a couple days ago, and, well… we're going to have a baby."

"What?" Piper's eyebrows shoot up. "The last fertility treatment worked?"

"Yeah." I beam.

"Are you…Is this? _Oh, Alex_!" She throws her arms around me, shoving me against the sofa.

"Are you happy, mom?" Ethan asks.

Piper pulls back, wiping tears off her cheeks. "I'm ecstatic! Come here."

The three of us hug, and not for the first time, I feel like the luckiest person on the planet.

"I love you," Piper says.

"Love you, too." I kiss her over Ethan's head.

It's going to be another magical Christmas at the Plymouth Lodge.

The End

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Have a Merry Christmas!


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